The Muggleborn Slytherin
by mystorytotell
Summary: It's rather difficult not to have an interesting story to tell when you are an Slytherin-sorted American muggleborn with Gryffindor loyalties, isn't it? And when Slytherin cunning is added to Weasley twin mischief? The results are spectacular. T for language.
1. What do I do?

The Harry Potter World

When I started school, I talked to other muggleborns, asking each of them about how they found out they had magic, how they felt about it and most specifically, how their parents felt about it. The kids would say it was "cool" or "weird, but you know." What do you expect, they were eleven. About their parents' reactions, they would say, "they said they always knew I was special" or "mom says it opens up a lot of opportunities for me." My parents' reactions were slightly different. They thought I must be practicing devil worship, or was possessed by something evil.

My parents were religious; I suppose they still are wherever they might be out there. We weren't Catholic, but we were very religious. We went to church every week and meetings throughout the week whenever they may be. We didn't drink or smoke, we were modest, because we were supposed to be. So when a nice old lady came to our house and told me that the oddities that had followed me my whole life were signs of my magic, my parents didn't take the news well. They prayed endlessly and the whole time, I begged that they let me go to the school the woman had told me would teach me to harness my powers. My parents said that this was a wicked desire that would only encourage the evil in and around me. But finally, we agreed to a deal. They said I could go to the school for one year and that if I wanted to continue magical education after that, they would send me anywhere in the world I wanted to study—and promptly disown and forget me.

They thought I would come to my senses. I thought they would come to accept me.

We were all wrong.

I came back so excited. I had learned more than I had ever dreamed, though not always what my teachers were trying to teach me. I was so excited to tell them about my powers, to explain that I had learned to use them for good, that there wasn't any more wicked in the magical world than there were in the normal one.

My parents never came around. When they realized I had not "accepted the wickedness of my actions, the evil that was growing within me" they were furious. When I had been home for a day, my dad came into my room where I was doing some research on an advanced spell I had heard about, but was having trouble working. He sat down in the chair in the corner of my room and looked at me, in that second looking so old and tired that I felt awful for all the stress I had caused him.

"The deal hasn't changed so you have a choice to make." I told myself not to cry, but I couldn't follow my own advice.

"But… bu… I d-don't want to leave you all." His face and he was on the verge of a smile, something I realized I hadn't seen from him in a very long time.

"Then we can put all this behind us?"

"N-no, I can't just… I can't…." With that, his face fell then hardened.

"Well then it looks like we have your answer." He stood and started pacing around my room, looking like he was going to start punching the wall. "Where do you want to go?"

"I… I don't know." I wanted to stay with my family, but I also wanted to pursue my education; now that I had begun learning, I felt like it would be physically painful for me to stop, like cutting off a part of me. There was no way around it, no way for me to have everything I wanted. I told him I would have to think about it. He told me to make it quick because they had run out of patience.

After he left, I must have cried for at least an hour before I had drained myself. And then, I started down the only path I had left to me by writing a letter to my old librarian. I had not been popular at school, Salem's School of Sorcery. I had been the dweeb everyone pitied and looked down on. I kept to myself and… I was a bit of a weirdo. If my family was cutting me off, I figured a fresh start all around might be the best plan and while Salem hadn't been a bad school, I also knew that there were far better schools abroad, I just didn't know what they were. Ms. Seaman, the school's librarian had been one of the few at that school to be genuinely kind to me, although she was a bit of a nut, which might have said a fair deal about me to be honest. Since I didn't have access to wizarding communications I had to send the letter the muggle way which meant it had to go four days through the mail system to get across the country to Salem, Massachusetts. And then I had nothing to do, but wait.

I mean literally _nothing_. My parents wouldn't look at me in the eye. The few times they had to speak to me, they looked over my shoulder or stared at whatever they were doing. I stopped eating with them and no one complained. I wasn't allowed to go out so I stayed in my room all day, self-imposed imprisonment. My little sister didn't understand what was going on, didn't know about my magic, didn't know about my school and didn't know why no one was talking to one another. All she knew about the situation was that I had gone to a special school for the year and that was it. She kept trying to get me to come out and play with her, and considering my total lack of company, I would have done so gratefully, but the first time my parents caught us playing mancala together, my step-mom grabbed my sister and took her to watch TV while my dad grabbed me and threw me in my room. I found light bruises on my arm from how tightly he had grabbed me, though I don't think he had meant to hurt me, and they didn't bring dinner to me that night like they had every night before then. Finally, after one very long week, an owl ran into my window in the dead of night.

I ran down stairs avoiding my parents who had fallen asleep in front of the TV in the family room and went out the back door to the owl that hopping around and shaking its bumped head. He looked at me accusingly as if closing the window was something to be blamed for. "Shut _up_!" I growled at him when he opened his mouth to squawk. He remained silent, thank goodness, with another accusatory glare. I swear he rolled his eyes before sticking out his leg for me to untie a letter from. The string was barely loose when he flew away. I sat down right there to read it by the back porch light.

Dear Skylar,

I am so VERY sorry to hear about your trouble at home. Unfortunately, there is no way for me or any of the faculty here at the school to intervene, but I think you are a very brave girl to choose your own way. You remind me of a heroine I read about once, but I can't quite remember who. Something classical… perhaps someone from a Jane Austin novel? I forget, but I am very, very proud of you my dear.

I had forgotten Ms. Seaman's propensity for rambling. Instead of reading it all, I scanned until I found the bit about possible schools somewhere about halfway down the second page.

About possible schools, there are many to choose from. Let me see if I can narrow it down some. We would of course love to see you continue here at Salem, but I do understand if you would prefer to pursue opportunities at another school as there are many excellent ones. There is one in Spain, La Escuela de Encanto y Pociones, where there are several respected teachers and many world renowned students have graduated from the place. However, while they have produced some very exceptional wizards, the vast majority of the school is ruled by low standards, both educationally and personally. There is also a school in England, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It is one of the most respected schools in the world, a surprising feat for a school named after a skin disease-ridden swine. However, like I said, it is a very prestigious school and also has a very benevolent and respected headmaster from what I have been told. Another respected school is Beauxbaton, a French school run by, if rumor serves, a half-giantess. However, as with the others, the school is old and well-known as one of the best establishments our world has to offer learning wizards.

The letter continued, telling me to do my own research, wishing me good luck and reminding me, for some reason, of her old and infirm aunt. I shoved the letter in my pocket and snuck back upstairs, collapsing on my bed. Do my own research? How was I supposed to do that? I didn't know anyone magical in the area and in any case, I wasn't allowed out of the freaking house! I tossed the letter aside, crumbled and slightly torn, and tried to make myself go to sleep, but that didn't work until at least 5 a.m.

I woke up sometime around noon. At one point, my dad would have disciplined me for sleeping in like that; now, I doubt he even noticed. I scratched out three letters, one to each of the schools Ms. Seaman had offered, explaining my situation and asking if I could be enrolled there. And since all three letters were going overseas, I had an even longer wait this time. By the time the first letter came, the only time my dad would speak to me was when I came down for food and he would ask if I had made plans yet. I would tell him I was waiting on a correspondence and he would nod, end of conversation. My step-mother never spoke to me anymore and my sister was too scared too. It was a very lonely time.

After a couple weeks, I received two letters in one night. The first was in French and smelled like too much perfume. The second was in Spanish and smelled like too much liquor. Seeing as I understood neither French nor Spanish, I figured that nixed any plan of going to either of those schools. All I could do was hope desperately that the warty-pig school would accept me. It was another three days before I heard from Hogwarts.

Dear Miss French,

We would be happy to welcome you to our school. And while I am sorry for the circumstances which have turned you to us, I do look forward to meeting you. We will contact your previous school, but I am sure everything will be in order and you will be able to enroll in our upcoming term beginning in September. I have enclosed a pamphlet about our school, its history, and courses offered here. I invite you to read it to become more familiar with our establishment. Please write to me with your decision and we will send someone to your residence to discuss any necessary arrangements with your parents. Again, thank you for your interest in our school and we look forward to seeing you here.

Warmest Regards,

Albus Percivil Wilfrid Brian Dumbledore

Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

It all sounded like the answer to my prayers, except for the bit about sending someone to speak to my parents. There was no way in hell they would go for that. But I also didn't want to tell this Mr. Dumbledore that I had never even asked so I emerged from my room to trudge down to where my parents were eating breakfast.

"Dad, Lyn?"

"What?" my father responded sharply. I swallowed, wanting out of that room.

"I wrote to a few schools and one just wrote back saying that they would accept me—"

"Good, when should we send you?" Where they really so ready to be rid of me? Did I mean so very little to them?

"Well, I don't know. They want to send someone to talk to us about arrangements." The last sound was barely past my lips when my father turned an ugly shade of red.

"No! I will not allow any more of those people in my house!" I nearly said 'those people like me?' but my dad would have seen that comment for what it was, a war cry, and a war between he and I would quickly become ugly. I wanted to scream and rage and cry, but I just ducked my head so he couldn't see any of that and nodded, exiting quickly.

The owl that had brought Mr. Dumbledore's letter was still hanging out in my room, standing on my bookshelf, her head ducked under her wing. The sun was up, I suppose it was her natural sleep time. I just hoped she wouldn't make a mess; I was not an animal person. I pulled out another sheet of paper and pen to respond to Mr. Dumbledore.

Dear Mr. Dumbledore,

Thank you for your acceptance. I would be honored to attend Hogwarts and look forward to beginning. As I said in my last letter though, my parents are not supportive of my continued magical education and for obvious reasons will not allow a school representative into our home or anywhere near them. Could I meet the representative another way? Perhaps at a nearby restaurant or coffee shop somewhere nearby? Thank you.

Skylar French

I'm not sure what exactly I was expecting after that, but it was not what actually happened. About a week after I sent that letter off with the owl, getting it out of my room before it could make a mess or stink up the place, it tapped on my window again. There was only a small slip of paper attached to his leg this time, and on that slip, there were only two words: 'Get ready.'

Within seconds, I had the answer to the question of what that meant. The doorbell rang and I heard my dad's footsteps move towards the door and the door opened. There wasn't even a pause before my dad's voice roared through the house. "SKYLAR ANN FRENCH!" The landing halfway down the staircase overlooks the front door and I only had to make it that far to understand my father's fury. A tall man with a long white beard and semiformal wizarding robes stood at my front door. He had a pleasant smile on his face like this was not only the welcome he expected, but the one he wanted. However, if you looked past his half-moon glasses, you could see a glint in his eyes like we had just failed a test. From the pamphlet I had poured over for the last week—so much that I am sure I could quote it word for word by now—this was Headmaster Dumbledore. He had ignored my warning and come to my home himself.

"Um, hi," I squeaked.

"Miss French, I presume," he asked politely.

"Yeah, um, yes." What is it about a British accent that makes you feel like you have to be formal? Or maybe it was just the man in front of me. He had a sense of nobility about him.

"Perhaps you would like to join us down here?" he gestured and I realized I was still on the landing halfway down the stairs. I nodded silently and descended, avoiding eye contact with my step-mother, who was glaring at me, and looking at my dad, who was glaring at the headmaster. I kept my eyes on Mr. Dumbledore who smiled politely.

"I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster at Hogwarts. You may call me Professor Dumbledore."

"Pleased to me you Professor Dumbledore," I squeaked again. A glance at my dad told me he was about to blow and I didn't know what to do. Politeness dictated that we welcome Professor Dumbledore in and ask him to sit, but the look on my father's face told me that the best idea would be to get the old man out of here as quickly as possible. Professor Dumbledore decided on his own, turning my father's anger on him rather than me.

He swept right into the living room and motioned my parents to the couch. "Please be seated, we have much to discuss." My dad's eyes widened, but apparently his fury had him tongue tied so he simply held Lyn's hand and sat with her on the couch. Professor Dumbledore pulled out a wand and made a comfortable looking armchair out of thin air. "Miss French," he asked me, "would you like a chair as well?" My other options were to sit with my parents on the couch or to sit on the piano bench, but the looks on my parents' faces told me that encouraging this man to perform more magic would be a mistake so I shook my head and took a seat on the piano bench which I forgot until that moment was broken. I sat gingerly after hearing the initial _squer-erk_ of it accepting my weight. He looked around at us as if we were the best of friends. "My dear," he asked after a moment, "would you be so kind as to make some tea?"

"Oh, um, of course. Is hibiscus alright?"

"Sounds perfect." I nodded and rushed into the kitchen, put some water on to boil wishing it would hurry. It was awkward listening to the silence in the other room, as if everyone had just disappeared. As I poured water into the mugs with the teabags, he called, "One cube of sugar for me please," and I was embarrassed to realize I hadn't asked. I wondered idly if tea-making etiquette was something taught at Hogwarts. I figured that one cube was about one spoonful so after adding his one and my three, I brought our mugs in. I had made myself some automatically, needing its reassuring warmth all of a sudden. "Thank you, Miss French," he offered.

"Skylar is fine, sir."

"Well then, thank you, _Skylar_ ," he said with a benevolent smile. He took a sip and smiled. "Quite refreshing," he complimented me. "But now I am afraid it is time to talk. Would someone please explain the situation to me again? I find myself rather confused." The glint in his eye once again belied his words. My dad though seemed to sense no danger because, as if released by the old man's words, he leapt into the explanation without a care.  
"My wife and I are against the practice of sorcery, the fact that my daughter has the ability at all is evidence that something has been done very wrong in her life. When Skylar was informed that she possessed this… magic," he seemed to choke on the word, "we were against her cultivating it and discouraged her from going to that institution. But she insisted and we made a deal that she could attend for one year, but we would not allow any more than that and if she continued to pursue an education in that field, she would have to do it elsewhere. We told her we would help her get anywhere else in the world she wanted, but after that, she was on her own." He paused for breath and continued at a slower pace. "We want nothing to do with your world. In fact, I have no idea why she brought you here." Professor Dumbledore sat quietly considering my father's words before speaking.

"Where do you expect her to live?"

"Excuse me?" my dad asked incredulously.

"Where do you expect her to live?" he repeated. "As I am sure you know, Mr. French, England does not have a foster system like America does. We have instead an overabundance of orphanages and children's homes. I can't believe you would want your daughter to be raised in one of those."

"She made her decision to leave. Where she lives and it is not our problem." The rejection, though I had been living through it for the last several weeks, stung painfully and I flinched. My parents imagined it so black and white; either I wanted to live with them or I didn't and those options corresponded exactly to either I didn't want to learn magic or I did respectively. How did they not get that I wanted both sides of it, that there were a million shades of gray that I couldn't get through.

"Somehow, I doubt very much that your daughter wants to leave," Dumbledore said quietly, but with a dangerous tinge I think my father finally caught. "I think she feels rather forced out of this home." He waved off my dad's shouts that he did not want me to leave and that I hadn't been forced anywhere and continued. "You have forced her by making her choose between her true nature and your picture for her." I blew away the memory of a scripture verse about the natural man being an enemy of God. Despite, and in part because of, everything I had gone through in the last year, I still believed in God. I just wasn't sure if He still liked me much. Professor Dumbledore pulled my attention back the conversation with a question directed at me. "When do you expect to leave, Skylar?"

"I… don't know. I guess whenever the arrangements can be made."

"Within two weeks," my father interjected. Could he really get me out of their lives so quickly and easily?

"Hmm." Mr. Dumbledore seemed to be considering something as he looked between me and my parents. "May I talk to Skyler alone, please?" he asked, though it sounded more like a command. My parents didn't trust or like this man, but they found nothing wrong with leaving alone with him as they headed up stairs to their room. After the sound of the door closing was heard, Dumbledore watched me for a moment before speaking. "What is it you would like, my dear?"

I wanted everything, but at the same time, it seemed like it shouldn't be too much to ask. I wanted my parents to love me enough to accept me magic and all. I wanted to be able to study magic without having to choose between that and my family. Weren't your parents supposed to love you, no matter what you did or were? Wasn't that practically a requirement for being a parent? I was sure the man before me knew all the feelings that were raging around my head, but he waited for me to speak. "I don't know, sir." He looked at me with sympathy.

"I am very sorry, Miss French. This is not a choice such a young person should have to make." I wanted to scream that _no one_ should have to make this choice. Instead, I nodded and took several deep breaths in an attempt to hide the tears that tickled my throat.

"What do I do?" I was begging at this point. Abandoned by my family, I was lost. I clung to my empty mug like it was a lifeline that could save me from anything to come.

"I am afraid, if your parents are truly set on cutting you off—"

"They are."

"Then you will have to live in an orphanage until an alternative can be found." He said it like he really did care and wanted to do more, but couldn't change the way things were. I suppose even magic can't fix the irreparable. When he said the word 'orphanage', it was like every drop of fight went out of me and I went limp, almost dropping my mug to the ground.

"Do you know of a place that will take me?" I asked. I was asking for an orphanage recommendation. I couldn't think of anything more rock bottom—if anything, this was mining into the rock bottom to drop down to new depths. I prayed that orphanage recommendations were not something he got asked for regularly.

"There is a home where two of our students live. They are siblings, both older than you, but I'm sure they would be happy to take you under their wing for the summer." I nodded, too numb to give a thank you. I must have sat there for a full minute before the next obvious question came to mind.

"Who do I call and what should I say?" He patted my hand sympathetically.

"I have a friend in the Ministry who can take care of the arrangements for you," he assured me. At a flick of his wand, a sheet of paper appeared out of thin air and he wrote a name and address down, then handed the paper to me. "Two weeks from today, this woman will meet you at the London airport and she will take care of everything," he promised. I nodded again, this time remembering a polite 'thank you' and glanced at the words of the paper. The letters all swirled around like gibberish. I tried to give a polite smile as well, but the muscles in my face didn't want to cooperate and I failed miserably. He patted my shoulder then and left. Without another word, I all alone in this house.

After that day, my parents, who had already been ignoring me for the most part, now acted as if I wasn't even there, like I didn't even exist to them anymore. When I told my dad I needed a plane ticket to England, he didn't even glance up. He just reached in his pocket and handed me his wallet without a word. And this is where I cracked. Perhaps another girl would have interpreted his actions as those of a parent who trusted his daughter, but to me, it was just further proof that he wanted me out with as little fuss as possible. So I went back to the office and changed the flight I had planned. I had set myself up in economy seating, but I flipped to first class. I suppose it wasn't much, but it was as much as I could do. They didn't want to remember me, but at the very least, their bank statements would remind them of me for a few months. Without a second thought, I clicked onto another site and bought a few more things, books and clothes, with the all expensive same day shipping. Slightly mollified, I took my dad's wallet back to him smiled my most innocent smile at him; he never even looked up to see it.

The woman Dumbledore had told me about had sent, as she termed it, a 'parcel' which included the address of the orphanage, in case there was anything I wanted to send ahead, a plain sheet of paper that would convince the muggle authorities that I had a passport, even though I didn't, and sheet that explained that my books, robes, and supplies would be paid for by a fund set up for 'underprivileged children', orphans and cast outs and the impoverished. Hating the idea of having no money besides what the school gave me, I decided to do a little more damage to my dad's credit statement. One evening, I 'borrowed' his card, then walked down into town to the ATM. I had seen my dad use his PIN more times than I could count and had accidently memorized the number. I withdrew $500 and slipped it into my wallet, returning my dad's card before he ever noticed it was missing.


	2. Ottery St Catchpole

The day came to leave and no one seemed to care. My dad took me to the airport, but neither my step-mother nor my sister accompanied us and my dad only took me as far as the security checkpoint. He didn't give me an 'I love you,' or an 'I'll miss you.' No, all he said was, "You're sure?" At my hesitant nod, because there was nothing else to do, he nodded grimly like he had expected it and said, "Well then, good bye." He put his hands in his pockets and walked away. The last image I had of my dad was his retreating back as he left me there.

The fake passport worked and I had a smooth, uneventful series of flights. First coach was posh and comfortable, but I couldn't bring myself to really enjoy it. I slept fitfully in my wide chair and ignored the flight attendants who tried to dote on me like I was someone important. By the time I reached London, I was groggy and grumpy and wanted nothing more than hot soup and a warm bed. It was raining in London when I arrived, just as it had been raining in Washington when I left. Somehow, it didn't make me feel at home. I dragged my duffel off the overhead rack and lugged it with me to main airport where I was suddenly accosted by a plump and businesslike woman. "Miss Skylar French?" she asked in a voice so fast it took me a minute to realize she had said my name.

"Yes?" I garbled out.

"I am Ms. Moore, I wrote you before?" I nodded to signify that I had received her parcel, but before I could verbally reply, she was off again. "I'm here to collect you and take you to St. Catchpole's Home for Children. I will smooth out any inconsistencies the muggles might notice and introduce you to the Cliffords." At my justified look of confusion, she explained, "The siblings that also attend Hogwarts. Surely Dumbledore mentioned them?" I opened my mouth to answer, but was cut off quite instantly by her, "Yes, of course he did. Now, is that all you brought with you?" she pointed to the purse and duffle hanging off my shoulder. I didn't answer for a moment, as I waited for her to start off again, but she appeared to actually be waiting for my answer.

"No, I've got more bags. I'm supposed to get them at Carousal 2."

"Well then, let's hurry, hurry. We haven't got all day and it's a long drive to St. Catchpole's." She wasn't kidding; it was a long, long four hours to Ottery St. Catchpoles. For me, it was full of more restless sleep which somehow succeeded in making the ride seem even longer than it was. By the time we got there, I was hungry, had a headache, and wanted absolutely nothing else but to be left alone. But alas, it was not to be. We were greeted in front of the moldy building by three people, one of which stood ahead of the other two. He was a slick man in a business suit and extended his hand as soon as I was out of the car, maybe even before. The other two were Paige and Mason Clifford, my new 'friends'. The family resemblance between the two was so striking that if they had had the same haircut, they could have been clones, one just a few years older than the other. They looked as happy to be there as I was. I was also sure I looked awful, but at this point, I just didn't care what they thought of me, I wanted to be _alone_. The man introduced himself as Samuel Dotes, head of this "fine establishment." He stressed what a delightful place this was, how—through his charitable contributions—it had enriched and given new meaning to his life and how he was sure it would do the same for me. I came to the conclusion that this was not a slick businessman, but a slimy salesman.

I'm not sure how I responded; perhaps I politely said I was sure I would enjoy my time here, perhaps I told everyone to go screw themselves, but either way, I was soon shown to a bedroom with two twin beds in it, one that was Paige's and one that was to be mine. Ms. Moore dismissed Mr. Dotes and the Cliffords and began talking at me. I tried to pay attention to her instructions that eventually, we would receive our supply and book lists and we would go to shopping in London, but that Paige and Mason knew all that and would guide me. Finally, finally, she left, perhaps catching onto the fact that I was at this point only slightly more coherent and much more annoyed that a pissed off zombie.

The next weeks trudged on. Paige rarely spoke to me, and Mason even less, but I had never been much of a people person so I tried not to mind too much. Paige was sixteen, in her second to last year of school, Mason was two years below her in age and education. Their parents had died years ago, killed by the evil side in a wizarding war that had ended when I was very little. It had centered in England and therefore, I knew very little about it. They took that as personally offensive.

In mid-July, we received our supply letters; rather Paige received them by owl in the middle of the night and gave me and Mason ours at breakfast the next morning. I shared a room with her, how hard would it be to give it to me there? It was a basic list, but I had nearly everything on it already seeing as America and England weren't as different as they liked to pretend. I needed the new books of course and new robes as my Salem uniform obviously didn't match the Hogwarts one, but other than that, I had everything. Paige condescended to ask if she needed to take me shopping for a wand, seeming to, like the majority of her countrymen so far, confuse the term 'American' with 'imbecile'.

"Oh, yes please, Paige," I preened, "I've ever so longed for a pointy stick like yours. In America, we just pull twigs off trees and hope for the best." I pulled the end of my wand just far enough out of my book bag for her to see it.

"Well you don't have to be rude," she sniffed and strutted away. I stuck my tongue out at her back. I figured I would apologize later, but never really got around to it.

They chose the next Saturday as our designated shopping day and we started out in the early morning, skipping breakfast entirely. We took a train, two buses and then walked three blocks until we arrived at a bar that no one around seemed to see. The sign above the place proclaimed the bar to be 'The Leaky Cauldron' as it squeaked back and forth. Paige led the way in, closely followed by her brother, as I trailed behind. It smelled stale in there and I wrinkled my nose. I had always been taught never, ever to consume alcohol, but I supposed I couldn't really judge those that chose to—how much worse can it be than my supposed devil worshipping?—and I tried to follow as nonchalantly as I could. An old man behind the bar chuckled at my reaction then greeted the Cliffords by name. "Paige, Mason, good to see you. Out doing your school shopping then?"

"Hi, Tom," Paige greeted and her brother mumbled something. "We are. Do you think you could let us through?" I was confused as he certainly wasn't blocking us from anything, but he nodded and came around the counter to us.

"And who's this?" he nodded at me.

I spoke for myself before Paige, who was opening her mouth to explain, had a chance. "I'm Skylar French, sir."

"Nice to meet you Skylar. Are you goin' to Hogwarts as well?" he asked as he led us around back.

"Yes, sir."

"Just call me Tom, there's no reason to 'sir' me," he winked down at me. I nodded and he continued as we reached a dead end alley wall and he pulled out a crooked and gnarled wand. "We don't get many Americans up at Hogwarts, do we now?" he asked the Cliffords. The shook their heads silently. "What made you come down to Hogwarts then?" Was Tom always this chatty? Again I had to speak quickly to beat Paige.

"New opportunities," was all I said. Not everyone needed to know my life story. He nodded and poked at a few random bricks with his wand. Without warning, the wall disappeared as if it had never been there at all. My eyes widened at the street unveiled. How had the muggles not found this? It was loud and bright. All around people laughed and chatted and pushed in and out of shops, enjoying the day of sun. There were carts on the sidewalk with treats and jewelry and knick-knacks. The store fronts each had bright displays in the windows, moving in ways no muggle display could with colors that seemed too bright to be possible.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley," Tom said as he bowed low. I stepped in slowly following two very impatient Cliffords.

"Come on, Skylar, we have to go," Mason bossed. I hurried my steps, but couldn't help looking around in awe. How were the Cliffords not blown away by all this? I was suddenly quite sure that Disneyland was lying; it couldn't possibly be the 'happiest place on Earth' when this place existed. Paige tugged at my arm and I stopped gawking to glare at and follow her.

While Hogwarts had its fund for the underprivileged, there wasn't much money for each of us and we passed by some of the brighter buildings to look in the second-hand shops. We found the books we needed and new robes for both me and Mason, who had outgrown his old ones. Mine were too long, but as Paige so rationally explained, I could hem them and let them out later. I sighed, but nodded knowing there was nothing else for it. It was midafternoon when we all finished the shopping and I wanted to explore—this place was amazing—but Paige just led us through. "We don't have money for frivolousness," Mason hissed at me when I stopped to look in the ice cream shop window. It couldn't really be just ice cream I thought. The colors were too bright and the scent to strong, I shouldn't really be able to distinguish the individual scents of the different flavors from all the way out here, should I? He tugged at my arm again, an action they were both becoming far too familiar with, and I turned back to him.

"I was looking, not buying. Calm down, I know we have a limited budget." They scowled at me as I scowled back.

"Last stop," Paige announced and she and Mason shared a significant look. I glared at them suspiciously before following them into the dusty shop they had dragged me to. It smelled like sawdust, varnish and something else that made my nose itch and felt like static electricity running up my arms. "Mr. Ollivander?" Paige called as she grabbed my arm and pulled me to the counter. I hadn't been paying attention to the sign outside, but I noticed the plaque on the counter. _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands has been in the Ollivanders family since 382 B.C. The knowledge of wandlore has been passed from father to son through the generations and each generation has improved upon the practices of old. Here, your true wand will find you. Welcome._

"What are we doing here?" I hissed at Paige. "I have a wand!" She shushed me like I was a child and I heard Mason snicker from where he still stood by the door.

"Mr. Ollivander?" she called again.

"I am here," an old man said in a soft voice. He walked out from a back room. "Good afternoon Mister and Miss Clifford. What can I do for you?" He noticed me then, my mutinous expression not seeming to put him off in the slightest. "I have not met this one. Are you here for a new wand?"

"No, I am not," I said sharply before Paige could speak. "I have a wand."

He looked skeptical so I pulled mine out for proof, holding it up before slipping it right back into my pocket. Paige and Mason hardly ever carried theirs with them because we couldn't use magic outside of school, they hadn't even brought them today, but I took mine with me wherever I went. If I ever truly needed it for whatever reason, an escaped murderer grabbing me, a carnivorous beast running at me, or a couple of annoying schoolmates that needed to be taught a lesson, I would be prepared. Besides, the government couldn't lock me up if whatever I used magic against was life threatening.

"She needs you to check her wand. She bought it in America so we need to be sure that it can adequately preform its tasks," she said piously. Before I could say anything, she said, "Come find us when you're done, Skylar, we'll just be wandering the Alley." Without another word to Mr. Ollivander or me, she and Mason practically ran from the shop and through the window, I watched them race away. I wondered if they were planning to go back to Ottery and leave me here alone, but found that even if that was the case, I didn't really mind.

"Well, may I see your wand, Miss…?" He held a long fingered hand out with his unblinking gaze on my face.

"Skylar French. And I really don't really need you to check my wand," I told him with exasperation. "They're just being brats."

"Well, as long as you're here, I might as well," he offered, hand still extended. I eyed him distrustfully. This might be his job, but I was very territorial and I hated other people handling my wand. Seeing that I wasn't about to relinquish my wand to a stranger, but not seeming offended by the lack of trust, he dropped his hand and leaned against the counter, unblinking eyes still on me, like he was trying to dissect my very essence. "Who did you purchase your wand from? I believe there are several wand makers in America."

"Attle's," I answered stiffly. His eyebrows rose an inch and he looked me up and down. "What's wrong?" I was sure he would say that Attle was an awful wandmaker and that I would be better off with any of his own wands, but I was surprised.

"Nothing at all," he said. "Ms. Attle is in fact descended from the Ollivanders, though her branch relocated to the colonies when they were just beginning. Though I have never met her, I have heard that she learned her trade well. Did you choose your wand or did it choose you?" he asked as if this was vital.

"We came to a mutual understanding." He nodded that this was satisfactory and I was pleasantly surprised not to be put in the middle of a mudslinging competition.

"What is your wand's dimensions and description?"

"Twelve and three-eighths inches," I said. "She said she designed it to be twelve and a quarter inches, but to wand didn't want that last eighth of an inch to be lost so she left it." I had thought she sounded a bit batty when she told me that, but Ollivander nodded like this made sense.

"And the wood and core?" he prodded.

"Linden wood with a black coral core," I said. His face dropped with disappointment and I felt offended on behalf of my wand.

"It appears Ms. Attle's business practice is not as scrupulous as I was led to believe," he sighed.

"My wand works fine," I said. "It always does exactly what I need it to." He shook his head sadly.

"That may be the case, but it appears she has lied to you about the makeup of your wand," he explained. "Lindon is another term used for lime trees. The only kind of lime tree that can be used in wands are silver lime trees which I'm afraid are very rarely used now. They were quite popular a century ago, so popular in fact that they were nearly all harvested and regulations were put in place. Coral is also rarely used now. I never use it as it was proven to be far less powerful than the three cores I use in my wands, unicorn hairs, dragon heartstrings and phoenix feathers." He shook his head again. "Two such rare materials in one wand is unlikely. In addition, with one so powerful and one quite weak, it is unlikely they would ever work together."

I had always loved my wand. Though when we first stepped into Ms. Attle's shop, I had been drawn to the darker woods, my wand was a very light tan with dark ripples and twists running through the grain. Ms. Attle told me that the ripples and knots told the story of the tree. The one that had been used in this wand had endured whole decades of droughts, infestations and even a fire, but when she found it, it had been almost three centuries old and was thriving as its kind often did. She said she could have hidden the 'defects' with varnish, but they made the wand special and she thought it would be a shame to hide its history. When I had touched it, I had felt such intense energy flow through my arm, I knew immediately that this was the one meant for me. My parents had been irked that it had been one of the most expensive wands in the store, but they had bought it without complaint as per our deal.

"Maybe I'm just an unlikely person," I quipped. It didn't really matter what my wand was made of, I thought, but I was now insanely curious. "Here," I pulled the wand in question out with a sigh. "What do you think it's made of then if not linden and coral?"

He took it with interest, inspecting it first from one end then from the other. He traced the way the ripples curled out from the handle, balanced it on one finger like the scales of justice, and then with the agility of someone half his age, whipped it forward as if to duel an opponent. I jumped back from him as my own wand was pointed an inch away from my face. With the same speed, he whipped it back and twirled it with a flick of his wrist and from the tip spouted several midnight blue bubbles that released the sound of waves when they popped. Finally, he placed it on the counter before me and motioned that I could take it. "So," I asked as I stuck it back in my pocket, "What is it?"

"I am sorry, Miss French, for doubting you and Ms. Attle. It appears that you were informed correctly; this wand is silver lime and black coral, twelve and three-eighths inches, resilient and strong, both physically and magically." I grinned as I ran my fingers over the smooth wood in my pocket. While it didn't really matter _what_ it was as long as it worked, I hadn't like thinking I had been lied to about the object that tied me to this world of wonder.

"Thank you, Mr. Ollivander."

"You are very welcome, Miss French. Your wand is very special. Silver lime is known for performing outstandingly well for diviners and those gifted with Legitimacy." My interest spiked even higher at the mention of the spell I had been trying so hard to understand for the last several months of the school year. "And coral, though it has only the most minimal of its own power, is known to amplify the power of its user. Without the added magic of a hair or feather from a magical beast, I think you must have a vast store of untapped power. I look forward to seeing your progress, Miss French."

When I found the Cliffords, they were sitting outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, the ice cream place I had looked into earlier that Mason had dragged me away from. They each had a small ice cream cone in their hands and looked quite pleased with themselves until they saw me. "What are you doing here?" Mason asked stupidly.

"Paige said to find you when I was done. Looks like the game is over. That wouldn't happen to be some of the frivolousness you said we didn't have money for earlier, would it?" Mason looked to his sister for guidance. Paige was blushing lightly, but she spoke with her usual straight forward tone.

"We both had left-over money from our allotments," she said. "I would say to go in and get one too, but you must have used the rest of yours at Ollivanders, so…."

"I didn't."

"What?"

"I didn't use the rest of it. Ollivander said that since my wand was in fine repair and was such exceptional quality, he wouldn't charge me." Actually, he hadn't said anything of the sort. He had said, 'I believe your companions have sojourned to Fortescue's and I suggest you join them before they leave you unaccompanied yet again.' And he had been right. So I marched right into the parlor with Paige pouting after me. They had some of the oddest combinations in there. I ended up with a chocolate, walnut and raspberry sundae, one of the most normal things they had and Mr. Fortescue seemed almost disappointed as I ordered. Paige and Mason however were forced to sit and wait while I ate, something I made sure I did slowly, just for them.

"We're leaving now," Paige finally commanded and I got up once again, to tag along. We exited Diagon Alley, back into what now felt like a very bland, boring world. On the way back to the train station, Paige stopped at a little shop and bought us all fish-n-chips with some of the orphanages money. Fish-n-chips were better than I had expected, but the chips did not taste as much like fries as I had hoped. I missed french-fries more than I should. We traveled the rest of the way in silence and I let myself nod off only to be roughly shaken awake when the train ride was over.

The last month and a half of summer vacation, or 'holiday' as the Cliffords said, passed too slowly for my taste. There was nothing to do. I am a reader, so I went in search of books, but the orphanage had a pitiful selection, mostly geared toward little kids. I got so bored I tried to read my school books, but the first time Paige caught me doing that, in the privacy of our room, she grabbed the book from me and roughly shoved it under the bed. "Someone could see you," she hissed as if I had killed her pet. "They can't know."

"They'll think I'm reading fictional nonsense," I told her reaching under the bed for my book.

"No!" she commanded. "If I catch you reading those books here, I'll lock them up."

"How do you do homework then? Hogwarts has summer homework doesn't it?"

"The school makes exception for us."

"Ah," I cooed as if at an infant, "how 'pecial you."

"Oh, stop being such a smart-ass," she told me and left abruptly. Left with nothing else to do, I ventured out of the orphanage into the town. It really was a pretty place, all very green and lush. I found a little library and spent most of my time there, getting into trouble several times for falling asleep curled up while reading at the library and waking up after curfew. And that was how I spend every day, except Sunday when the library was closed. The only person in all of Ottery who began to look at me kindly was the librarian.


	3. The Hogwarts Express

Finally, September 1st came and we were officially leaving the moldy old place. We had to leave at eight in the morning, which wouldn't have been bad except that Paige insisted I be up by five thirty even though I had already finished my packing. The room was back to looking exactly the way it had before I had come as if I had never been there. We took another train to Kings Cross Station and the Cliffords and I ignored one another as had become our habit. I doubt most people even realized we were traveling together. "Come on, you two, we are going to be late!" Paige bossed when we stepped onto the station. Each unloading onto trollies, we pushed through the crowd until we neared the section between stations 9 and 10.

"Finally," Mason sighed with the first hint of a true smile I think I had ever seen on his face.

"Go on, Mason, you first," Paige nodded, seeming just as relaxed as her brother. I looked back and forth between them and the wall they were staring intently at. What were they thinking? We were supposed to be at station 9 ¾ wherever that was, which certainly wasn't here, and it was already 10:40.

"What's going on?" I started to say, but before I could finish, Mason ran with his trolley straight at the wall… and vanished. Into thin air, he was just suddenly gone. Paige started to follow and I tried to stop her, but she shrugged me off and just went right at the wall. She walked slower, though she still picked up pace as she neared the bricks, and then, just like her brother, she was gone. I stared at the spot in confusion then looked at the people around us who hadn't seemed to notice. Not sure what to do, I pushed my cart toward the same spot they did, slowly. When my cart should have been stopped by the wall, it just kept going. And then, I felt something tug me through. I thought at first that it was part of the magic, perhaps why they hurried through, but when I came out on the other side, of what, I wasn't sure, Paige was holding the edge of my cart.

"What took you so long?" she demanded.

"You didn't exactly tell me what to do!"

"God, Yankee, you're so stupid," Mason growled and shrugged away, his sister following quickly with a parting scowl for me. _Yankee? I don't even like baseball._ It had sounded like a slur coming off his lips, and though he had never said it to me, it rolled confidently enough off his tongue that it must have been common and I wondered how often he and his sister referred to me as such.

I pushed my cart through the crowd toward the crimson train that waited, steaming and ready to go. The crowd was full of friends calling to one another, parents lecturing children and wishing them luck and animals protesting the ruckus by adding their own sounds. It was so freaking loud I just wanted off. Reaching the train, I tried to move the cumbersome trunk Paige had made me get, but it was too heavy and awkward. Giving up, I used a simple levitation spell to make it hover in front of me. Why couldn't we use duffle bags like normal people? They were easier to move. The train was almost full already as friends claimed seats with one another and others sat shaking hands with someone new. Finally, there was a car on my left that had an available seat and I stuck my head in. "Do you mind?" I asked pointing to the seat. The three boys weren't paying much attention as they poked fun at each other and talked about a celebrity two of them had supposedly run into, but they nodded that I could sit. "Thanks," I muttered trying to stay out of their way. I levitated my trunk up to the rack above the seats and curled up into the corner with a novel the librarian had given me as a parting gift, one that people never really read, but was surprisingly good. I tried to lose myself in the novel, but the boys' conversation was as distracting as the boys themselves. Two were twins, identical in every detail and did the whole twin thing, finishing each other's sentences and everything. The third boy was black with dreads. All three boys were quite obviously tricksters and jokesters as they plotted and laughed and I couldn't help but be entertained. The black boy had a box sitting next to him that kept wiggling closer to me though, so I kept pulling away from them.

They were working on something that looked like a wingless, beakless, purple penguin. Maybe not so much a penguin then, but a fat bowling pin. It was also squawking and running around the compartment, sounding like a kazoo combined with a horn. They kept poking it with their wands, but it didn't react other than to change direction. "We could ask Percy if he knows anything," the black boy suggested.

"The perfectly prefect Percy won't help us," one of the twins disagreed. "What about Jenkins, he helped us some last year."

"I asked him already," his twin reported, "He's got nothing. All he can offer is that we put a silencing charm on it then hide around and take it off when it gets to their carriage."

"I don't even know how to do a silencing charm," the black boy complained.

"What about a timer charm on top of the silencing charm?" I asked and they all fell silent. They looked at me and blinked realizing for the first time I think, that I occupied the corner seat of their compartment.

"Huh?" they asked as one. I hadn't meant to speak—that was one of my greatest embarrassments, speaking before I thought—but now that I had, I couldn't take it back. I was sure I was blushing down to my toes as I said, "Oh, you know, just a silencing charm and then a timer charm on top of it. When the timer charm finishes, the silencing charm will wear off and the… whatever that is… can start honking again." The stared at me again, probably thinking I was an idiot.

Finally, one of the twins spoke. "We don't know either of those charms though."

"Oh," I said awkwardly, then pulled out my wand and pointed it at the noisemaker. "Fifteen seconds okay?" I set the silencing charm with a swish of my wand and then set the timer with a quarter turn of my wrist as if I were setting an egg timer. The boys stared as the purple pin abruptly stopped making noise though it continued bopping around the car. They all jumped though when, after fifteen seconds, it resumed squawking as if it had never stopped. I watched three very mischievous grins grow as they turned toward me and the twins said as one, "You're perfect!"

Ignoring the loud pin, they all moved closer to me, the black boy thankfully moving the wiggling box off the seat and away from where it had been.

"So what's your name?"

"Where you from, are you American?"

"What year are you?"

"Which house are you in?"

"Why haven't we meant you before?"

I held up my hands in a defensive motion. "Slow down, slow down." I took a deep breath before answering as best I could. "I'm Skylar French. I'm from America, but I don't live there anymore and honestly I don't even know what records England would have on me. I'm a second year I guess, but I just transferred so I don't know what house I'm in, I thought it was just randomly assigned when you got there." I knew that both Cliffords were Ravenclaws and that the other houses consisted of Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Slytherin, but other than that, I knew nothing.

"Oh," they said, much too innocently, and I sensed a trick. One twin continued, "No, it's not random, it's based off a test."

"Oh yeah? What kind of test?"

"Well, they make you fight an animal. Nothing too especially dangerous, but people have been known to suffer… maladies when they're not careful." All three of them had perfectly straight faces that I didn't trust for a second, so I decided to play along.

"Oh, yeah, we do that in the states too," I told them as straight as I could.

"Really?" came from three different sides.

"Yeah, but not for first years and not to determine houses or anything—we just have randomly assigned dorms. The fight determines your career."

"It determines your job for your entire life?" the black boy gasped.

"Well, mostly. It determines your educational training path, and of course you're free to drop out or anything, but how you fight the beast is very telling."

"How do you mean?" one of the twins asked.

"Well," I began, trying to make something up quickly. "The way you fight shows how you think. If you dive right in and try to finish it with force, you generally end up in law enforcement, or maybe athletics. If you use your brain or what you know about it to find its weakness, you go into a more scientific field—inventions, that kind of thing. If you just try to appease it, you go into hospitality, service-y oriented fields. And if you try to trick it, you go into politics." I was quite proud of myself for coming up with all that so quickly. They all just stared at me, completely blank. I wondered if they already knew I was lying, but none of them contradicted me so I figured not. But, I've never been all that great at bluffing so I finally busted up then- I just couldn't keep my ruse going. They looked at me in confusion for a moment before understanding lit their eyes simultaneously.

"You were fooling us!" one twin laughed out loud looking a little shocked. I wondered vaguely if no one ever joked with them; they obviously joked on everyone else. He looked at his brother and asked playfully, "Can we keep her?"

"You make her sound like a lost puppy," he responded. I couldn't deny the fact that I really was little more than a misplaced mutt so I stayed silent waiting on the answer. "Of course we're keeping her! We need her smarts." He winked at me and I smiled weakly back. "By the way, I'm Fred Weasley and this moron here is my brother, George."

"Oh please," George rolled his eyes mockingly. "He's just jealous that I'm the more attractive one." Before either of them could continue, the black boy interrupted.

"And you'll never be able to tell them apart by the way. Don't even try." The twins laughed and I was surprised; I would have been offended in their places, if no one cared to distinguish me from another person, even if that person was my best friend and identical twin. "And I'm Lee Jordan," he added.

"Nice to meet y'all," I waved as if we hadn't been in the same train compartment for at least an hour and a half. Fred rubbed his hands together in a distinctly mischievous way.

"Now that we're all introduced, I suggest we get this show on the road." He pointed to the little penguin _thing_ that despite its constant noise, I had all but forgotten.

"What do you call it anyways?" I asked.

"We haven't really named it yet," George admitted. "But it does what it's supposed to name or no." I smiled and nodded in understanding. "Could you do the timer thing again?"

"But of course," I said grandly.

"Good. It's time to send this gift to those Slytherins down there."

"If it's a gift, it needs a bow," I told them as if that were the only way to do it. A flurry of loops later, and a fluffy pink bow sat on its head. I ripped one of those useless blank pages from my book and pulled a pen from my purse. 'Just for you.' I scrawled and tucked it securely under the bow. "Presentation is everything," I told the boys. If my step-mother had taught me anything, it was that.

They grinned and George declared, "I like you," before getting back to business. "What do you think? A minute to get down to their compartment and another thirty seconds to make sure it's in there?"

"Probably a minute and a half to get it down there, just to be safe," Lee argued, "Two minutes total."

"Agreed," the twins said in unison. "Alright," Fried continued. "Skylar, work your magic." I nodded and repeated the charms as before, only this time drawing two small circles when setting the timer. As I finished, George pushed the little thing into the hall and it the direction of the compartment. It promptly fell over, but righted itself instantly and set off bumbling down the hall. Fred flicked his wand once to redirect the bauble when it started to pass the compartment and flicked it again to make it knock itself against the compartment door. We all pulled our heads back in when the compartment door was pulled open by a girl with silver blond hair. We sat in careful silence at the edge of our seats for thirty-three seconds before we heard the squawking resume in full force followed quickly by the startled and outraged cries of alarm the Slytherins emitted. The boys burst into victory cheers and I laughed hard enough I cried, which honestly didn't need that much laughter on my part. I felt for the first time in a long time that I belonged somewhere. I couldn't really remember the last time I had felt that way. I had come close at Salem, but the feeling had never settled there.

And then I had an awful thought: what if I ended up in the wrong house, say Slytherin, and the boys hated me too? "Why do you hate the Slytherins?" I ventured to ask.

"Slytherins are slimy little creeps!" Jordan proclaimed and the twins nodded in agreement.

"The slyest little weasels you ever met," Fred added.

George took pity on my confusion and explained. "See, each of the houses stand for something, whatever their founder valued most," he explained. "Gryffindor, our house, values courage and bravery. Hufflepuff stands for loyalty and tolerance. Ravenclaws care about intelligence. Slytherins don't care about any of that. They care about their bloodline and getting their way no matter what."

"Bloodline?" I asked. Blood couldn't really be that important.

"Yeah," Fred said. "You know, Pureblood, Half-blood, or Muggleborn?" Those had all been mentioned at my school, but they weren't important. It was America, the melting pot of the world. Purebloods were practically nonexistent. "What are you, by the way?" he asked me.

"Muggleborn," I answered chin up. That was nothing to be ashamed of and I didn't care if they thought it was. At least, that's what I told myself.

"Good," George answered. "That gives you a significantly lower chance of getting into Slytherin." The boys seemed to relax slightly and I did as well.

"Practically impossible," Lee assured me. "She's too sweet anyways," he added then. "She couldn't be one of those snakes." I wasn't necessarily _sweet_ as they would soon find out, but it was so common a misconception when I first met people that I didn't try to correct him. A lady tapped on the half open door then, a little old woman pushing a candy cart. "Anything for you dears?" she asked in the sweet and a little bit trembling voice of an old lady. I was broke so I shook my head. The twins did too as they pulled out sandwiches, but Jordan got up, buying a couple handfuls of something. Sitting down, he tossed some to the twins and some to me.

"Thanks. What are they?" I asked reading the packaging.

"Haven't you ever had a chocolate frog before?" George exclaimed.

"Um… no." I pulled pointed to myself with a smile. "Muggleborn American, remember?"

"What's the point of that colony, if they don't have chocolate frogs?" Jordan asked through a chocolate filled mouth.

I rolled my eyes as I answered, "Freedom from taxing tyrants." Over the course of the next few hours, they asked me about America and Salem, I asked them about England on Hogwarts. Eventually conversation turned to family, as it inevitably would. Jordan was an only child, the twins had four other brothers and a little sister and I again felt especially sorry for their mother even as I envied them. I gave a watered down, "My parents don't care for magic," and passed the subject on. At one point, a round boy, whose insecure posture made him look especially young, came in looking for a lost pet toad. Plenty of people stopped by to say 'hi' to the boys and it was obvious they were popular and liked. Again, I envied them. As it grew dark, I went to change into my school robes, missing my jeans more than I should, and when I got back, found that the boys had changed as well.

An announcement came through the speakers, in what I assume was the conductor's voice, "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes time. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken separately." The train slowed and we joined the others leaving their compartments to gather by the doors.

"Who's Hagrid, by the way?" I asked. "I'm supposed to find him at the station."

The boys looked at one another in a conspiring way and I knew not to trust the answer that would come from their lips. "Oh, that might be a bit hard," Fred warned innocently. "He's a pretty short guy. Hard to spot in a crowd."

"Yeah, completely bald too," George added.

"And very mean," Jordan finished. I knew they were lying, but I didn't know how much until I stepped off the train.

"Oh, c'mon," I rolled my eyes at them. "He's not quite as short as you said. Don't you guys know its mean to pick on people smaller than you?"

"Sorry, midget," Fred teased patting my head softly and pushing me toward the big man calling for 'firs' years'. He laughed when I called back that I hadn't meant me. Continuing toward the big man, I was pushed and shoved every which way in the crowd. When I finally made it to him, I practically had to yell to be heard.

"Hagrid?" I asked, tugging on his jacket when I couldn't get his attention the first time.

"Ye'?" he turned toward me and asked. He really was quite huge.

"Um, I'm Skylar, the second year? They told me to find you."

"Ah, ye', Dumbledore said to look for yeh'. Jes' come on up with the firs' years an' you'll be fine." He was friendly enough and I nodded, following his directions when he pointed me over to where first years seemed to be gathering. I joined them, eyeing them as they eyed me. As the older kids disappeared in carriages that rolled up a path, Hagrid motioned us to follow him as we began walking down a narrow path, pitch black on all sides. I imagined a first year hazing would be successful here. "You'll get yer first sight of Hogwarts in a sec, jus' 'round this bend here." As we came around a corner where the forest protruded, we were greeted by the sight of a castle that had been hidden. An "ahhhh" went through the group of first years and I couldn't hold back my own sound of awe. Salem had been a series of short, squat building, half underground, in order to avoid muggle detection. Either these people didn't care if muggles found them or they had taken impressive measures to hide _this_. The castle that had to Hogwarts was grand with all the grandeur of an ancient monarch. In the night, with all the windows lit by candlelight, it shone on the hill like a beacon. I had seen spells and charms performed, but this castle, on a still and silent night, embodied all that was Magic.

"No more 'en four to a boat," Hagrid called and pointed us toward the shore of the lake we stood at the edge of, where little boats bobbed waiting for us. I figured that with my luck, I would topple over the side, but I made it in anyways. Two first years joined me, but they looked so nervous, to be honest, I probably did too, that we didn't talk. "Everyone in?" Hagrid called over the boats. When no one spoke to the contrary, he said, "Right then, forward!" and the boats began moving, obeying his command. As we rode forward in the self-propelled boats, I considered the castle; it was magnificent. Whoever planned it out had obviously been a master architect. Towers stood tall and turrets and battlements line the place. At one point, before I found out I was a witch, I had wanted to be an architect; with places as grand as this, that must still an option. Something nudged our boat and the girl next to me shrieked softly. I heard the boy behind us whisper that it was probably just the giant squid his brother had told him lived in this lake and really wasn't all that dangerous, but I wondered how much that actually calmed the girl.

"Heads down!" Hagrid said as the boats farthest up from reach a cliff. Those ahead of me ducked under ivy and as I ducked and passed through as well, I saw that the ivy had hidden a hole in the cliff that created a passage way for our little boats. There were no torches as we floated through, long enough that I almost wondered if we had gone under and past the castle entirely. I heard a few girls whimper as unseen bats were heard flying over our heads, but the winged-rats never bothered us. Eventually, we reached the end where the boats lined up against a natural rock dock, putting us close enough that we could easily get out. "Oi, you there, is this you toad?" Hagrid asked the round boy from before as he inspected the boats.

"Trevor!" the little boy exclaimed eagerly collecting him from Hagrid. I would never understand why the boy loved this toad so much—it seemed like more trouble than it was worth. And so slimy looking. We followed Hagrid through the rocky shore, climbing a little until we reached a grassy area that sat in Hogwarts's light. Hagrid led us up stone steps which ended at an enormous wood front door, engraved with intricate carvings.

"Everyone here?" Hagrid asked, looking over us as if we were ducklings. "You there, still got your toad?" Answered by only silent nods, Hagrid smiled down at us as if he were getting ready to unveil a prize and knocked on the oak doors. The doors opened immediately and a tall, thin woman with black hair and green robes stood, waiting for us. She looked at us, treating each of us to a look that told us that this woman would not be messed with. "Firs' years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said.


	4. The Sorting

A/N: You will recognize a lot of dialog here, just like there was some last chapter. It is JK Rowling's and I would never claim it as my own. This is her story, for the most part, told from a different perspective so, yes, when Skylar observes what is in the actual book, the dialog will be very similar if not the same.

"Thank you, Hagrid," she answered. "I will take them from here." Hagrid ducked his head and turned to go back down the steps. Professor McGonagall pulled the door open wide as if to welcome us into her home. The Entrance Hall was huge, with a vaulted ceiling so high you couldn't quite tell where it ended. A marble staircase faced us leading upwards almost imposingly and though the space was only lit with torches, there were enough that the hall was filled with bright light. Professor McGonagall led us partway down a corridor toward another set of doors. I could hear the voices of all the students and teachers already in there and I wanted to be there too. I imagined myself going to sit by the boys and being so put together that everyone liked me as much as them. My little fantasy was interrupted when Professor McGonagall instead lead us to a small empty classroom off to the side. We had to crowd in to fit and I felt like a canned sardine as I tried to maintain some sort of distance between me and those nearest. Standing as close as we were, you could feel every time someone shifted. With the high level of nerves in the room, this was basically constantly.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall said as we settle in. "The start of term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because while you are here, your house will be something like you family within Hogwarts." I fervently hoped they wouldn't be like _my_ family. "You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room. The four houses are call Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will win your house points and any rule breaking will lose house points." I wondered silently to myself how many points Fred, George and Lee had lost over the years. "At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will become a credit for whichever house becomes yours.

The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school." A tremor went through the kids at that and I heard a girl a few people overs whisper, "the _whole_ school?" with panic.

"I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting." Kids shifted again as they nervously fixed their hair or their robes and Professor McGonagall's eyes swept through the crowd of us, lingering every so often. "I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait, _quietly_. And Miss French?" she scanned once again until I raised my hand. "As a transfer student, you will be sorted first. I recommend you stand near the front." Without waiting for my nod, she turned and left. One can't expect eleven year old to stay silent long as soon as she left, they all began whispering to one another.

"Transfer student?" a few kids near me asked as I began to move forward. "What year are you? Where are you from?"

"Yeah, second year from America," I muttered back as I stepped away. I got a few curious glances, but for the most part, they all seemed too nervous to pay me any attention. Mostly, they whispered to one another speculating about what would be involved in the Sorting. It was then I realized, I had never gotten an actual answer from the boys, so I was as clueless as the first years. Just then, a couple dozen ghosts walked into the room through one wall, all debating something and not seeming to notice at all until some of the others started screaming. I had seen ghosts before, but never so many. I supposed it made sense though for the older school to have more roaming ghosts though.

The white, translucent imprint of a fat little man said to the others, "We ought to give him a second chance."

"My dear friar," another man disagreed. "Peeves has had all the chances he deserves. He gives us all a bad name. He's not even really a ghost," he sniffed, then finally noticed us. "I say, what are you all doing here?" The kids all remained silent.

"New students," the fat man said, "About to be sorted, I suppose. Hope to see you in Hufflepuff, my old house, you know." Professor McGonagall returned then.

"Move along now. The Sorting Ceremony is about to start," she said. "Now form a line and follow me." As suggested, I took a place very near the front as I wandered behind the girl who had pushed to be up front, first into the Great Hall.

The name was accurate I discovered. The first thing you noticed were the candles that levitated at varying heights and lit the room without dropping wax on those below. The ceiling had to be high, but you couldn't tell quite how high because you couldn't really see it. It disappeared, showing an image of the outside sky. The older students all sat at one of four tables that I knew from the twins represented their houses. Fred, George, and Lee waved at me from the table on the far right and I smiled back. Professor McGonagall led us in so that when we stopped, we faced the entire student body, which seemed a little cruel. She brought out an old looking stool and a raggedy pointed hat. The hat looked like it had been left in the gutter at some point, and was more patch than not. She set it on the stool and everyone stared at it expectantly except for a few first years that looked as confused as I felt. Then it started to sing.

Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see.

I'll eat myself if you can find a smarter hat than me!

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall.

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all!

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see.

So slip me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor

Where dwell the brave at heart.

Their daring, nerve and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart.

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal.

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil.

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

If you've a ready mind.

Where those of wit and learning

Will always find their kind.

Or perhaps in Slytherin,

You'll make your real friends.

Those cunning folks use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands

(Though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!

The room burst into applause and while I followed suit, I found myself laughing too. I'd been in the wizarding world for a year now, and things like that shouldn't surprise me anymore, but it was just so random that I couldn't help but giggle. Who looked at a hat and thought "I want that to sing me a song"? Well besides maybe the Weasley twins. I listened as the song described the four houses and how he came to be a bit more diplomatically than the boys had. When the song ended, the hat went limp again and McGonagall stepped up again, grabbing it by the tip and looking at the long list in her hand. "French, Skylar," she called. I heard a few murmurs of "Alphabetical?" around me, but ignored it as I stepped up to the stool with shaking legs.

The last thing I saw before the singing hat's brim fell down over my eyes were the faces of the all the students. The first years watched nervously, waiting to see what the hat would do. The Hufflepuffs looked at me encouragingly, giving me their whole attention. The Ravenclaws watched me shrewdly and I saw them whispering to one another, probably debating where I belonged. The Slytherins eyes me with a mixture of wariness and curiosity, the Gryffindors with excitement. The twins and Lee waved to me with wide grins and I tried to smile at them before the brim hid them from view.

"I'm not going to sing again," said a voice in my ear and I smirked as he had known exactly what I was thinking. No one laughed though so I figured they couldn't hear what he said. "Very good," he answered. "No one can hear me but you, until I decide where to place you that is. Now let's, get down to business, shall we?"

 _I guess,_ I responded mentally.

"You're a smart girl, perhaps Ravenclaw material?" he asked himself. I thought of the Cliffords and he responded, "They're not all that bad you know. Each house has its own negative stereotype. It is my job to see past those. Now," he continued, "It could be courageous of you to have come such a long way on your own." He pulled up the memory of my dad deciding that I didn't want to stay. "But you didn't really make that decision, did you?" He worked his way through more memories, chuckling now and then at my more ridiculous moments. When he found all the extracurricular spells I had learned, he asked, "What do you plan to do with them?"  
 _Nothing,_ I lied. _I don't have plans._ He of course saw right through that and called to the surface every vengeful plan I had ever had whether against my parents or the bullies of Salem as easily as if they were his thoughts instead of mine. It was as if he underlined a couple months ago when I over exercised my dad's credit card. He showed me exactly where in my trunk I had stashed my $500 I had taken from my parents' account.

"That American muggle money won't do you much good in this world," he told me.

 _Shut up,_ I though back.

I swear I _felt_ him smile. "Hmm," he mused in the way one does when they just learned something particularly exciting or when they had finally found the right answer. "So why do you learn them?" he asked, this time as if he were testing me. I didn't try to lie this time.

 _My parents don't care about me. People don't see me as important or someone to watch. I want to be strong enough that they know to respect me._

"Well then it seems that the choice for you is quite obviously Slytherin." He sounded again like he was smiling. How could he smile about that after everything the boys I told me? I grasped at the only straw I could.

 _But I'm muggleborn! They don't accept muggleborns!_ More importantly, the boys wouldn't be friends with a Slytherin. He was only slightly sympathetic and completely unyielding.

"This is the place with your best chance and you'll find that, given the opportunity, not all Slytherins are judgmental and prejudice. Some of the strongest friendships you make can be from this house. Slytherins are very loyal to their friends." Before I had even another second to argue, he yelled, "SLYTHERIN!" and this time, I could tell that the whole room could hear his voice. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables applauded politely while those at Slytherin cheered loudly—I expected that would change when they learned of my blood status thoguh. Maybe I could lie and say I was a half-blood for a while. The Gryffindor table booed. I looked over to see the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan looking at me with understandably shocked expressions. I could feel my own expression frozen somewhere between blank unacceptance and horror.

"Go take you seat, Miss French," McGonagall told me motioning to the table beneath the green banner. She looked vaguely surprised and I figured she knew my origins. I stood, even shakier than when I had sat, and made my way to the table. I sat on the end, not directly next to anyone, but people still went out of their way to reach over to shake my hand and bury me in too many names to remember. I sat in a state of near shock through the rest of the sorting, only noticing, quite enviously, when someone was sorted into Gryffindor. I had hoped the hat would find some seed of bravery hidden within me. Apparently not. It even found bravery in the toad boy, but not me. It felt horribly unfair. The Weasleys' little brother got into Gryffindor too, along with the celebrity everyone had been talking about earlier and plenty of other kids, but not me. When the food appeared, literally just _poofing_ into existence on platters in the middle of the table, I could do little more than poke at it on my plate.

"I know how you feel," a dark haired first year girl across from me said. "My family chef's quality is much higher than this mush. I'll have to write my mother to send something edible." I was sure she was just going to ask her mother for sweets so I hummed noncommittally and ignored her and the rest of those around me for the rest of dinner and then dessert.

Dumbledore made a final speech and finally everyone stood, still talking loudly to their friends. Over the din, I heard prefects calling for first years. "You too, Skylar," a Slytherin prefect said to me as she motioned me closer to the group that was gathering around her and her male counterpart. I stepped closer to the group, once again standing only on the edge. "Follow us," the boy called and we started walking out of the Great Hall. On our way through the doors, I caught sight of the twins again, though I wasn't sure where Lee had gone. The boys stood a few steps up a staircase and leaned against the banister watching the doorway. When one caught sight of me, he nudged his brother and pointed me out in the crowd. The watched me, this time in a decidedly unhappy way. I shrugged at them—I hadn't exactly gotten a choice in the matter, had I? I hoped we would go up the stairway as well so that I could try to talk to them as we passed, but my group turned and went down a different stairway to the left. I kept eye contact with them until they sneered and turned away.

We kept going deeper and deeper into the castle and with every flight down the stairs, I swear the temperature dropped another several degrees. By the time we stepped off the stairs, I, along with several others, had my arms wrapped around myself and was very glad I had brought plenty of sweaters with me to school.

With every floor, my mood dropped as well. I wanted to rage and curse and scream. I had made friends, something I hadn't had in ages, but because of some screwy hat, they were disgusted with me and would probably never speak to me again. Worse, they would probably never think of me again. I briefly considered finding that hat and taking some scissors to him. But I was too smart for that. There was probably some spell protecting him anyways.

As we walked, the prefects pointed out different historically significant part of the castle, or portraits of important people, generally Slytherins. Finally, we reached a stretch of wall with no portraits on it at all. It was just a dingy looking wall, looking almost damp. "Superiority," Audrey, the female prefect said clearly and a stone door that had been hidden in the wall slid open. "Welcome home," Audrey smiled at us.

The room we entered wasn't especially welcoming or homey; it was very… green. The Great Hall and even the hallways all somehow had rather vaulted ceilings, but this room's ceiling were only slightly above average, making it seem rather low. It was long, like a throne room, and at the opposite end, a fire burned in a grand fireplace. Lamps hung, but somehow they all had a greenish tinge and I wondered what chemicals had been put in those candles to keep them burning that color. There weren't any windows, though I suppose that wasn't so surprising considering how deep we were underground. "Why're the lights green?" the girl who had spoken to me at dinner asked. In answer, Audrey took several steps forward to just past the middle of the room.

"Because from here past, we are under the lake." There was a murmur through the first years as they all exclaimed over how cool that was. I had never been afraid of drowning, but I suddenly imagined the walls breaking and water gushing in, drowning us all. I tried not to dwell on that.

"Through this door," Peter, the male prefect, pointed, "is the boys' dormitories. Through this one is the girls' dormitories."

Audrey continued, "We'll let you go up now, but if you need anything, Peter and I will be in our rooms, just knock on the sixth year doors for either of us." The first years didn't need to be told twice. They seemed to stampede down their respective stairways. The dormitories were even deeper than the common room and I suddenly wanted nothing more than to curl up in sweats and a quilt. "Skylar?" Audrey asked walking up beside me. "Is everything alright?" I couldn't tell her the truth that I had hoped to be in Gryffindor right now or any other house than this one, but I couldn't stay silent either.

"I'm a long way from home," I finally said quietly. I stopped by a door labeled ' _Second Years_ ' in elegant cursive.

"Your parents only want the best for you. For them to have sent you here proves that," she assured me and I didn't contradict her. I still wasn't sure how to admit to these people that I was a muggleborn. "Besides, this is your home now." _Yes_ , I thought looking at the damp walls and formally elegant décor, _this is so homey_. Audrey smiled and motioned me into my new room. "Get some sleep," she told me. "Things will look better in the morning." I obeyed silently. Entering the room, I found only two other girls who were each busy unpacking their trunks. As soon as they looked up and saw me though, they practically pounced on me.

"You're the new one, aren't you?"

"Why are you here?"

"What is your name?" I physically recoiled from the bombardment. Whereas with the boys earlier today, their questions were asked out of friendliness, these girls asked with a sense of self-interest. I suppose I couldn't really blame them—we were all Slytherin—but I was never a people-person and I didn't know these girls' agendas.

"Tell me who you are first," I decided and their eyebrows raised as if I had just challenged them to a duel. At the same time though, they didn't seem to necessarily disapprove.

"I am Tatiana Bristole." Tatiana was a pixie-like little girl with a heart-shaped face and long, perfectly curling dark brown hair trailing down her back. She had a kind of innocent look about her, but if you looked straight into her eyes you saw intelligence as she measured you and anything else that might fall into her line of vision.

"And I'm Lucille Hart." Lucille was tall and as willowy as a twelve year old could be. Her hair was lighter and shorter than Tatiana's and her eyes less intelligent, but maybe from her carefully manicured long nails, I could tell that if you got in her way, she could shred you to ribbons.

I stepped to the unoccupied bed that rested in a small alcove furthest from the door. "Pleasure to meet you both," I said carefully. I could almost feel a mask on my face as I tried to hide every emotion. "I am Skylar French. I just transferred from the Salem School of Sorcery in America."

"Why did you move?" Tatiana asked.

"Did your father get a better job here?" Lucille asked in turn.

"No. I just thought a change of scenery might be good for me."

"Were you in trouble at your old school?"

"No, like I said. _I_ needed a change. I don't care what anyone else wanted." The words sounded harsh even in my own ears and I wondered if it was the Slytherin stigma or if the hat had been right and it was really just me. The girls looked shocked from where they sat on their beds.

"Your whole family moved because _you_ wanted a new school?" Lucille sounded shocked.

"No. I came on my own." If they looked shocked before they looked boggled now. I worried their jaws would become unhinged.

"Wow," Tatiana finally said and I wondered if I had passed her test. "That was very… brave of you."

"It was what I needed to do." And it had basically been my only option. They looked at me as if I had just proven that I was worth something though. I desperately hoped that would be enough to keep me under the radar for a while. The girls went back to unpacking though they continued to talk to me. I imitated them, opening my truck and beginning to arrange.

"So what does you dad do?" Lucille asked. I wondered why she asked only about my father and not my mother, but I figured I should wait to see if they would answer that question themselves. Pushing that thought away, I had to quickly figure out how to make my dad's very muggle job sound less muggle-y.

"My dad sales accounts. He's the region's top salesman."

"Accounts for what? A bank?"

"No, his company does contract work for other companies." I saw Lucille open her mouth to ask another question so I spoke first to shut her up before I tripped myself up in lies. Adopting her pampered-girl demeanor, I said, "It's all boring, I never paid attention." I flicked my hand as if every problem would obey the gesture and flee. The girls both nodded as if this was a perfectly accepted, even the expected answer. "What about you?" I turned the question to them. "What do your dads do?"

"My father is a banker," Lucille spoke first. "He lets other people borrow his money and pay him back." Even in my twelve-year-old ignorance, I knew being a banker was more than letting people borrow your money. "Mummy throws parties, mostly for us, but their so good that other people pay her to help them too. She doesn't need to work, but she says other people are just paying her to have fun. And every time she throws parties, I get a new set of robes." If her _mummy_ threw as many parties as she said, I wondered how big her closet had to be to fit all those pretty robes.

"What about you, Tatiana?" I asked.

"My dad doesn't work," she said with a dignified sniff that I could of sworn looked like she practiced it. "He doesn't need to. We have the family fortune. My dad _invests_ and makes the fortune even bigger." She looked over at Lucille, somehow down her nose even though Lucille was taller, "And _I_ get new robes and shoes and whatever I want whenever I want. I don't have to wait for a stupid party."

"I don't have to wait for a party," Lucille objected. "I just get new robes _especially_ then. My parents spoil me to bits!" I wondered which parent and told her that phrase. Tatiana sniffed.

"What about you, Skylar. Do your parents spoil you, too?"

"Well, I've never been especially wanting, if that's what you mean," I told her trying to spin another half-lie. "My parents weren't filthy rich, but I've never had to base _my_ self-worth off my _parents'_ money." They were silent for a moment as Lucille tried to figure out if I had just insulted them and Tatiana tried to figure out how to get back at me for it. I felt like my life was quickly spiraling into a _Mean Girls_ movie. I felt the need to go shower the sickly sweet oil off my skin.

"Well," Tatiana finally sniffed, "if you need anything, Skylar, just know that I'm always right here for you. And I'm sure I can help you out if you need money. Like I said we have plenty to spare."

"Ah, that's so sweet," I cooed back at her. "But, like _I_ said, I'm fine and have _exactly_ what I want." Lucille looked back and forth during our exchange with a look that said she knew she was missing something, but wasn't precisely sure what. I dragged my shower stuff out then and locked myself in the bathroom then without another word. The steam from the hot water quickly filled the air and as I brushed out my tangled hair, I imagined the steam drawing out toxins from my body, allowing me to relax. I slipped into the shower then, letting the hot water massage the muscles in my back and smooth out the stress that had built there. By the time I got out, the girls were ready for bed in silk nightgowns and were whispering together. I ignored them, despite the fact that they were probably whispering about me. In my cotton sweats and tank top, I made my way to my own bed sliding the satin bedspread out of the way. I pulled my scriptures off the shelf next to my bed and curled up on my side with my back to the girls to read.

No one considers that muggleborns could have come from religious backgrounds or that we would perhaps keep our beliefs once we joined the wizarding community. When I had begun learning, I had looked for occult rituals and pagan chants, but had been completely unable to find them. There were hexes to be used on enemies, yes, and curses too. But I couldn't find any difference between those and guns or Tasers or any other offensive or defensive weapons muggles used. I knew that there were good and bad wizards just as there were good and bad muggles. So, I figured that God had to be there too since he ruled all mankind. So I had continued my scripture reading and my prayers though of course I couldn't make it to church. Though I never talked about it with other wizards, I wondered if those in the magic world understood what exactly religion was.

Either way, I wasn't sure yet I wanted these girls to know what I was reading so I kept the book hidden from them and stayed on my side as I folded my arms to pray. I was sure Tatiana at least would figure out a way to turn my worship into a weakness and I refused to give her that power. So I hid this part of me from them and I laid there in the dark until they were asleep.


	5. Don't Mess with an Angry Snape

I followed Tatiana and Lucille back up to the Great Hall the next morning, wondering when they would give out maps of the school and assumed one would come with my class schedule. The castle was huge and as I walked into the Great Hall, I heard some first years muttering about moving staircases. It had to be safe to say that this place would be difficult to navigate. But as the thin, black-haired man Lucille told me was Severus Snape, potions teacher and head of Slytherin house, came down the table creating class schedules for every student, I didn't see a single extra page being handed out, no maps in sight. As I watched, several of the students flattered him, often in over exaggerated ways that made me roll my eyes, but I noticed that though he often smirked in response, he never smiled. Not once. I was at the far end of the table, one of the last to receive a schedule, but I never saw him look actually pleased about anything. I wondered if it was a bad day or if he was just a grumpy man.

He only reached me when others had begun leaving and I was infinitely grateful no one near me seemed to be paying attention when he drawled, "Ah, Miss French. Our muggleborn American. You must be so pleased to be here." His voice was as oily as his hair, which is to say, very. I glanced around quickly.

"Yes, sir," I answered quietly, "but I would prefer if people didn't know my lineage, if you don't mind."

"Are you ashamed of being…American?" There was a nasty light in his eyes that very clearly said that he knew exactly what I didn't want people to know. I supposed he had been sorted Slytherin when he attended school as well and probably looked down on muggleborns too.

"On the contrary, I'm quite patriotic. If I weren't I would at least attempt to hide my accent."

"Hmm," he sniffed as if I was messing with his fun. "Dumbledore wants a measure of your abilities before you are put in your permanent classes," he said as he pulled out a sheet and started running his wand over it. "You will attend first year classes for the time being until we can determine your competence. American curriculum, I'm sure you understand," he sneered.

"I doubt I will disappoint," I said quietly, taking the paper from him and glancing over it. Of course, I had a class immediately; transfiguration in who-knows-what part of the castle. I sighed and left, not needing to offer a parting word as he had already turned to an older boy. I hurried out into the Entrance Hall looking around in confusion. "Crap," I cursed quietly looking first one way then the other. A few students a couple years older than me passed by and I hurried to catch up to them. "Excuse me," I said, "Which way to the Transfiguration class?" They looked first at my face, still smiling, but their faces hardened as soon as they caught sight of the green lining of my robes. I had found that overnight, every bit of uniform I could find had been emblazoned with the Slytherin insignia on the front and lined in green. I noticed that _their_ colors matched Fred and George's which meant they had to be Gryffindor.

"Find it yourself _, snake,_ " one boy said rudely as his friends shouldered me out of the way and passed by. I swore more heavily under my breath again and vainly attempted the mind thing. I had never been able to get it to work the way it should, but I hoped it would at least give me a general direction. Unfortunately, I got nothing, not even a hint of their emotions. I looked around and noticed the twins watching me again.

"I suppose you two won't tell me where to go for Transfiguration either, will you?" I asked snidely. I was frustrated, in an unfamiliar place with unfriendly people. Hadn't I left America to find somewhere I could fit in? So I was shocked when they answered with helpful information.

"It's that way," George pointed, "just past the courtyard." I raised my eyebrows in surprise. But he wasn't done talking. "How did you end up in Slytherin, I thought you seemed okay, and I thought you were muggleborn."

"Shhh!" I told him looking around wildly. "I don't want that spread around for the time being." I took a deep breath and calmed down some. These boys had actually been nice to me, maybe they would accept me no matter what. It was a theory to test at least. "I don't know how I ended up there. I'm just trying to get along." They eyed me shrewdly.

"You know, being muggleborn isn't something to be ashamed of," Fred said pointedly. "Slytherin on the other hand…." I tried to explain my current, barely functioning mental state quietly without others hearing.

"I'm not ashamed of it, but I also know that if the people I live with find out, they can and will use it against me if it helps them in any way. I will _not_ give them that advantage until I can figure out how to handle it." They watched me carefully and I wondered what they saw. Finally Fred shook his head in disbelief.

"That seems like a very sad way to live," he said.

"It's temporary," I assured him. During my restless night, I had tried to come up with some plan, _any plan_ , to get out—there had to be a way—but so far I had come up with nothing. "Besides, I wasn't given a choice. The hat took forever with me because I was actively arguing with him. The stupid thing is probably broken because _he screwed up_."

"The hat doesn't make mistakes," George said gruffly and if that reminded the twins of something revolting, they stiffened again. "You had better get to class. McGonagall won't like if you're late." Without another word, they left me there standing in the middle of the hall, people on all sides. Finally, knowing I needed to hurry, I left, going in the direction they had pointed and hoping quite desperately that they hadn't been messing with me. Several first year Slytherins were entering a classroom so I followed, hoping this was the right room. When I stepped in, I was greeted by familiar diagrams on the walls and cages that I knew housed animals when students started learning animal transfiguration. I always did feel bad for those creatures. The room was surrounded by high windows and the natural light made the morning seem a little bit better.

"Come in, come in, we have plenty to do today," McGonagall said from behind her desk as she organized papers. I took a seat in the back corner of the class, watching the eleven-year-olds tap their toes or quills nervously while others practically froze in fear. Only a few seemed genuinely relaxed and I wondered if they really were comfortable, or if they were talented little actors. "Sit down," she told a few straggling first years impatiently. "Now," she began, only to be interrupted by yet another first year finally finding the room. She continued as if not interrupted, "Transfiguration is some of the most difficult and complex magic you will learn at this school," she said without preamble. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned." Some students shifted uncomfortably, while I heard several students lean to their friends and whisper that she was just trying to scare them and that it would be an easy class.

Professor McGonagall proceeded to turn her desk into a pig and back again. Though these students, as Slytherins all half-bloods or more, had been around magic their whole lives, this excited them and I expected they thought they would all be able to do that by the end of the day. Instead, Professor McGonagall began lecturing on the alphabet used in transfiguration spells, then gave notes on practical spells. She then passed out matches to the first years and told them attempt to transfigure it into a needle. I knew that very few of them would be successful today. She came back to where I sat and instead handed me a quiz on first year curriculum, including the alphabet, and instructed me to bring it to her desk when I had finished. When I came to her only half hour later, she looked up at me in surprise. "Yes? Are you having trouble?"

"No, I'm finished." She looked confused and took the paper from me and looked over it, grading it quickly, marking two minor errors of translations.

"Very good. Next time take your time to avoid careless errors." I nodded without comment and obeyed when she sent me back to my seat telling me she would be there in a moment. When she came back, she placed a mouse on my desk. Surprisingly docile, it didn't try to run away or scurry across the desk, it just sat there looking from me to her and trembling slightly. I was sure it had been through some scary things in this room, but it seemed in okay shape. "Please transfigure the mouse into a snuffbox, Miss French," she told me. A snuffbox?

"What is a snuffbox?" I asked, feeling stupid.

"You don't know what a snuffbox is?" she asked as if clarifying.

"No ma'am," I defended as I heard a few people snicker. "Never had any need for one." She sighed and demonstrated, though nonverbally so I couldn't hear the spell, presenting me with a pretty, little silver box with intricate engravings.

"That is a snuffbox, used for tobacco," she said returning it to its mouse form and feeding it a few crumbs. "Please transfigure the mouse. Your snuffbox need not look exactly like mine, but the prettier the better."

I nodded and tapped the mouse with the tip of my wand saying the spell quietly with a clear picture of my snuffbox in my head. It wasn't as intricately designed as hers, but I saw an approving smile when it replaced the mouse on the table. She picked it up examining the swirls on top, bordered by paste rubies. She chuckled quietly when she opened it and found the words, ' _Not even once'_ etched inside. "Very good," she told me. "You are completely proficient enough to continue to second year Transfiguration next week." She changed the mouse back into itself and gave it a few more crumbs.

"I thought this little guy deserved to be something pretty," I told her pointing the content rodent in her hand.

"I'm sure she appreciated it," she smiled indulgently. "I would like you to read the Chapter Nine in your book, transfiguring insects, to be prepared for class next week."

"Yes, ma'am."

"You are free to go. You have about three-quarters of an hour until your next class. I suggest you do something constructive with your time." She smiled again, but before she could go more than a few steps, I stopped her.

"Professor?" I asked. "Could you perhaps tell me which is the best way to get to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom?"

"Of course. Go up the main staircase one floor, and turn left. Go down that hall and turn left again. It will be the tenth door on your right." Of course it would be. I nodded and left wondering what to do with my free time. With nothing better to do, I went in search of the classroom and, with an extra half hour, sat down to do the reading McGonagall had set for me. A long chapter, I was only a quarter of the way through it when a bell rang and students flooded out of the classroom, several nearly tripping over me as I tried to stand from my position of sitting next to the door with my back against the wall. A few students ignored me, Gryffindors that looked around my age, but both a Slytherin and a Hufflepuff stopped together to help me stand.

"Don't mind them," the Slytherin told me, a girl who must have been only a year or so above me. "We've got you."

"Thanks," I muttered. I could feel a bruise growing on my leg where one of the Gryffindors had deliberately kicked me.

"Don't mention it," she said. "I'm Lexi and this Taylor," she introduced herself and her Hufflepuff friend.

"It's nice to meet you," Taylor said, extending his hand for me to shake.

"You too," I said shaking his hand. "I'm Skylar."

"Ah, you're the American transfer student," Taylor said, positively delighted.

"Um, yeah," I answered, not trusting his excitement.

"That's great, I hope you like Hogwarts."

"Uh, thank you."

"Don't mind him," Lexi said. "He gets easily excited. I'll see you around the common room, yeah?"

"Yeah," I agreed, sure it was inevitable. "See you." They waved and walked away together and as I watched them go, I thought that had to be the weirdest pairing I had ever seen: a Hufflepuff and a Slytherin. Though, they seemed perfectly happy so it must work. Defense Against the Dark Arts followed similar to how Transfiguration had; Professor Quirrell, a thin, stuttering man in a weird smelling turban, set me a quiz and asked for a demonstration of a few spells. After passing that, he told me that I, "w-would join the s-s-s-second year class ne-next week," and set me reading the appropriate chapter to prepare for next week's lesson for the rest of class. Finishing that chapter, I went back to reading from the transfiguration textbook until the bell for the end of class rang. With no other classes until Astronomy at midnight that night, I finished lunch quickly and, rather than return to my dormitory where I would have to deal with Tatiana and Lucille, I went exploring.

Past the main few levels, the castle was utterly dizzy-fying. There were some staircases that were missing steps, not like they needed maintenance, but like they had just never been there, some that were narrow and proved quite a challenge when you met someone going the other direction, some that I was sure would collapse if you weren't careful, while another staircase seemed to switch its destination when you weren't looking. I spent five minutes fighting with a door that turned out not to actually be a door—the door was in fact camouflaged in the stone wall next to the false door. There were portraits of people I assumed were important everywhere, all gossiping together and moving from picture to picture. Most of them were helpful, pointing me toward what they considered to be interesting places, though some of them seemed to enjoy watching people frustrate themselves, and one attempted to convince me that if I leapt from the bannister of a specific stairway three levels up, the floor beneath transformed to jelly and would bounce me ten feet back into the air. I told him to stay away from first years. Ghosts wandered around too. The Fat Friar, the fat ghost we had met the night before, passed me once and when asked where I should go, asked what I wanted to do. It was mid-afternoon by now so I told him I wanted to sit somewhere comfortable where I could finish my reading. He led me to the library, wondering aloud how I hadn't found it yet.

"Have you seen how _big_ this place is?" I asked him. He chuckled in a joyful way.

"You were next door for a quarter of an hour," he told me. "The rooms just don't exit into the same hallway, but you were right there."

"It makes a bit of a difference when you can't walk through walls," I told him dryly.

"I suppose that is true," he laughed again. "Enjoy your afternoon," he smiled and floated away, leaving me at set of intricately carved doors. Pushing one open, I entered a huge room. I assumed it was huge at least; bookshelves where everywhere looking rather maze-like and blocking a view of the edges of the room. There were several tables set in the front of the room and armchairs scattered here and there. Unable to resist myself, I stepped into the maze wandering this way and that scanning the subjects I passed: a long series of magical creatures from grindylows to dragons, magical plants and herbs, magical cities to visit, magic and muggle relations. It seemed like it would go on forever. An armchair was settled in a nook next to a candelabra on the wall between some Proclamation of 1312 and a section on medieval witch hunts. I curled up in it, only to fall asleep while reading for which I blamed my restless night.

Through the rest of the week, that armchair became my safe haven. Any time I had that was not assigned to classes, eating, or sleeping, was, for the most part, spent in that chair. While I had found that not all the Slytherins were as nasty as the twins had painted them to be, the common room was still an unwelcoming place and time spent in close proximity to Tatiana or Lucille drove me mad and generally made me feel I had stepped into a soap opera. I checked most my classes off fine, only completely missing History of Magic (Salem had focused more on American-wizarding history). I only had Potions left, a double period to be spent with the Gryffindors. I guessed the faculty had set this up specifically; whether to foster friendship between the houses or to watch the ensuing war, with popcorn at the ready, I couldn't be sure.

I entered the Potions classroom, a dungeon not far from the Slytherin common room, expecting a repetition of every other class I had been in. It may have gone that way if I hadn't screwed up, but I'll never know—I never even got that far. It was clear that Professor Snape preferred us Slytherins to the Gryffindors. The houses had automatically divided themselves, sitting on separate sides of the room. Nearly coming in late, I had ended up somewhere in the middle. Snape latched onto Harry Potter right from the start and it was obvious that for some reason, he _hated_ this boy more than the rest of the Gryffindors put together.

I hadn't met the Potter kid, but I had heard him talked about everywhere I went. Through snippets of conversation heard while eavesdropping, I learned that this kid had somehow been responsible for the fall of a Hitler-like tyrant, when the kid was an infant ten years ago. When you looked at him now, he didn't seem all that impressive. A little scrawny, if anything. He and the twins little brother, Ron, had developed a fast friendship, and I discovered that Ron was now the envy of many; best friend of the Boy Who Lived was a coveted position. The blond Slytherin boy, Draco Malfoy, was especially vicious to the two boys. Silently, I congratulated Ron and wished him luck.

Professor Snape began quizzing Harry on the most random things, things a lot of older kids probably wouldn't know. I certainly didn't know most the answers, and potions had been one of my best subjects at Salem. Harry finally got his own verbal spar in and Snape punished him for it by docking Gryffindor a point. The poor kid looked crushed as Ron patted his shoulder consolingly. I just didn't get it. While we put together a basic potion for soothing boils, I watched Snape snarl and sneer at the students, Harry especially, and I grew more and more curious one of my greatest weaknesses. When the round Gryffindor boy, Neville, messed up his potion so badly he positively erupted in boils, Snape stood there berating him while he moaned in pain, sending another boy with him to the hospital wing, then blamed _Harry_ for Neville's mistake, docking Gryffindor yet another point. I sat there watching the whole thing, trying to reason out something rational for Snape's complete hatred for Harry Potter.

I didn't realize I had probed his mind until I was flooded with memories that were not mine. I was drowning in images that belonged to a teenage, greasy-haired boy. Most of them concerned a boy who bore a startling resemblance to Harry and another boy with long, dark hair. The boys bullied and fought the obviously younger version of Snape. Snape got in his own shots, but more often than not, the Harry-look-alike and his three friends had the upper hand. And then, deeper than all the pranks and bullying of the boys, was a girl, a pretty redhead. Images swirled full of her and Snape, but as the two aged, they grew further and further apart until eventually, the girl was with the bully, from holding his hand, to marrying him, to her belly round with his child.

I was yanked from the thoughts when a hand landed on my shoulder. His hand was a claw when I looked into the past-furious face of Severus Snape and a shiver went down my spine. "What do you think you are doing?" he hissed in a deadly voice.

"I…I…I…" I stuttered as badly as Quirrell.

"You will remain after class." He turned on his heel and I sat trembling in my seat. His snarls at Harry and the rest only got worse, and I felt bad for the trouble I had caused. I felt worse for the trouble I was about to be in. Though he growled at the others for the entire double period, he didn't look at me again for the entire time; not even once.

When the bell rang, the class filed out, Gryffindors throwing angry or scared looks back as they scurried from the dungeon. He finally looked at me then. I still sat in my seat and he stared at me as I trembled. Every student had left when he finally advanced on me. Without a word, he grabbed my arm and dragged me out of the room and up too many staircases to count. We finally stopped at a door guarded by a statue of a griffin. "Whizzing whizbees," he snarled. I would have laughed at the way the juvenile words sounded in his voice, had his hostility not been so directed at me. The griffin allowed us through the door to a spiral staircase that turned, moving the stair like an escalator. Despite the fact that we were already moving, he pulled me up the stairs so fast, I tripped several times. The stairs ended at a door, but Snape didn't stop to knock, he simply barged through, pulling me through the door, then pushing me away as soon as we were through. "Albus, I need you now!" he called.

Dumbledore descended a staircase behind a desk after a moment, asking in a surprisingly calm voice, "What could be the matter, Severus?"

"I am expelling her!" Snape snarled and my stomach plummeted. If I was expelled, I had nowhere to go.

"Ah, Miss French," Dumbledore greeted. "Good to see you. I have been meaning to meet with you at some point today. Isn't this fortunate?" _Not so much_ , I thought to myself. "Now, Severus, what is all the fuss? I know you are her head of house and have the authority to expel her, but what could Miss French possibly have done to earn expulsion in such a short time?"

"She performed Legitimacy on me," Snape ground out through his teeth. This seemed to shock Dumbledore, something I imagined he didn't experience often. He paused with his eyebrows raised and looked from Snape to me and back again.

"Did she succeed?" he asked looking back to me. I nodded, unsure of whether I was supposed to answer or not, but Snape remained silent, his answer clear. "What did she see?" he asked Snape.

"Everything," he answered shortly.

"Everything?" Dumbledore looked to me again.

"Not everything," I objected, "I mean, I don't think so. I—" I cut myself off, unsure of how much to explain.

"Go on," Dumbledore encouraged.

"He was angry with Harry Potter, more than he was with any of the others, and I was curious why he would hate him so much. I didn't mean to use Legitimacy, really, it was an accident! I didn't mean to look and it doesn't usually work, but it did and I saw." I stopped my rambling and swallowed, but Dumbledore motioned for me to continue. "I saw him," I pointed to Snape, "when he was in school and some other people."

"Who did she see?" Dumbledore asked Snape this time.

"Potter and his friends… and Lily." Dumbledore looked almost impressed.

"Not quite everything," he guessed, "but the basics." When Snape nodded, he turned to me again. "Miss French, how did you learn Legitimacy? It is not a part of Salem's curriculum, I think."

"No, sir," I agreed. "I learned it on my own. I read about it and practiced. It never really worked. Sometimes I could see how people were feeling, but only sometimes." I took another breath to calm my nerves. "I didn't think it would work," I finally said quietly. "I'm sorry."

"You taught yourself?" Dumbledore asked as if to clarify.

"Yes, sir."

"Hmmm…" he mused to himself, opening a drawer and withdrawing a stack of parchment. "Miss French, you have excelled in nearly every quiz set to you from your teachers and have demonstrated ability above your age. You are a very talented young witch." I suppose I should have thanked him then, but I was waiting for his decision. "Severus, I cannot accept her expulsion."

Snape exploded at that. "Albus, she snuck into my head! Who's to say she won't do it again? She is a danger to—"

"Miss French is a talented young witch and I believe she will go far and do our school proud," the headmaster cut Snape off. "Miss French, I trust that I do not need to inform you that you are prohibited from using Legitimacy on any teacher or student in the future. I am giving you this one chance. Please do not waste it."

I nodded vigorously. "Thank you, sir!"

"You will also have detention with Professor Snape every week for the remainder of this year, perhaps even into next year, if he deems it necessary." My jaw dropped.

"Every week?" Snape echoed my sentiments. "Albus, I refuse!"

"No, Severus, I believe this will be good. Now, Miss French, I suggest you get down to the Great Hall for what remains of the lunch hour. Severus, please communicate to her an evening that will be acceptable to you for her detentions." Dumbledore left the room the way he had come, leaving us just standing there.

After a moment, Snape turned on his heel and, as he swept out the door, said, "My office, Thursday night." I just stood there a moment longer, surrounded by Dumbledore's trinkets, still in shock, before slowly leaving, wandering through the corridors towards the Great Hall.

I should have known better than to think I was going to get off that easily. At dinner that evening, I noticed Snape leave the teacher's table and walk toward our table. His eyes met mine and he sneered as he leaned down to tell a fourth year something. That fourth year's head immediately whipped towards me, his eyes wide with surprise and he turned to tell his friend, while another friend across the table looked at me too, having overheard whatever Snape had told them. My suspicions of the content of the new information was confirmed as I heard whispers of "muggleborn" and "mudblood" all around me. I had heard the term around the common room, and it was obvious from the tone that it was some sort of swear, but it had never been directed at me. I looked to where my head of house sat at the head table and he met my gaze again, giving me a wholly satisfied smirk. I only had to wait ten minutes before I felt something land in my hair. As I reached up to flick it onto the table, I found a half chewed wad of beef. Disgusting. Another piece missed me and I quietly put a shield around me before any more food could be thrown. It wasn't the kind of shield that would protect against spells though, so as soon as I cleared my plate, I left. I knew if I left before that, I would be seen as weak by my housemates and would become an even easier target. I took refuge again in my nook in the library until the bell for curfew rang and I had to leave or risk getting caught.

As I entered to room I shared with Tatiana and Lucille, they abruptly stopped talking and I knew they had been discussing me. I made my way past them, as dignified as I could. Whispers and catcalls had followed me through the common room and I had refused to bow to their weight. I wouldn't bow here either. Tatiana spoke first. "A mudblood like you shouldn't be here. And I certainly shouldn't have to share a room with one. I've written my parents and Dumbledore will be hearing about it by morning. I suspect that within two days, you'll be run out of the school."

"What do you want to bet, Tatiana," I asked her as nonchalantly as I could muster.

"Excuse me?" she sniffed.

"You think I'll be gone in two days, scared off by your _mummy and daddy_. I think I will still be here. So what do you want to bet?" When she didn't answer, I turned it up. "C'mon, Tatiana, if you are so sure a mudblood won't survive in Slytherin, you must be willing to put a wager on it," I baited. "Or are you afraid I'll win."

"You can't win," she hissed as if it were an impossibility.

"Then it shouldn't be a problem to put a little wager on it."

"Fine," she said abruptly. "If I win, you have to tell the whole school you are a mudblood before you leave. And you have to say 'mudblood'." She sneered as if it was the worst fate she could imagine. But I hadn't assigned any real meaning to the word, and though I knew it was technically a 'bad' word, it didn't hurt me. I saw no problem with my heritage, only the fact that others were using it against me.

"Alright," I told her, "but if I win, Tatiana, you have to give Professor Snape a lecture on the negative impact that dividing people based on bloodstaus has on society." Her face whitened somewhat, but she knew better than to try to get out of it. She nodded sharply. "You heard her, right, Lucille?" The on looking blond nodded. Without another word, I got ready for bed, steadfastly ignoring them both.


	6. Revenge

I won that bet with Tatiana. Two days, and I was still there at Hogwarts, still even a Slytherin, though I was rarely seen in the common room. I only retreated to the common room at curfew and passed straight through to my dormitory. Tatiana _technically_ paid up, but she cheated. She had found a recorded lecture in a library book, magically copied and pasted onto parchment, and left it on Snape's desk anonymously. I was almost certain he knew who really left it, but he publicly blamed me, berating me loudly for it the next morning at breakfast, ignoring those around us snickering and Tatiana's overly please expression. I wish I could say that public humiliation was the worst of my discomforts though.

I was hiding out in the library, deeper than before, when they found me. "Hello, Skylar," Fred said.

"Haven't seen you around much," George added. I eyed them where they leaned against opposite bookshelves. I had seated myself at a dead end, which meant they blocked my only way out. I tightened my hand around my wand in my pocket as I had whenever people came close in the last few days.

"How'd you find me?" I had specifically asked Madam Pince what the least visited section of the library was and hidden there. Somehow, I doubted the twins had suddenly developed an interest in the properties of potting soil when mixed with frog mucus, a subject for which there was a surprising number of books—apparently the topic had been popular in the 1920s, why, I haven't the foggiest.

"We've all got secrets," George said cryptically. "Though we've heard that yours have recently gotten out."

"Seem to have fallen into a pit of snakes, too," his brother added helpfully. I sighed in frustration. I did not have the patience to deal with more mocking right now. I had used up my quota for the day.

"What do you two want?" I asked. If they had something to say, they had best get to the point quickly and get out.

"We haven't seen you around at _all_ ," George said again. "Not in the halls, not even at meals." He paused before adding, "We were worried about you." A hysterical, completely mad sounding laugh escaped me. _No one_ was worried about me; not my parents, not the teachers, not the prefects, no one. "Are you okay?" he asked point blank.

"No. I am not 'okay," I told them angrily. "In the last three days, I have had all my clothes stolen and replace with paper bags twice, while I was sleeping and while I was in class. I have been to the hospital wing five times, once for having half my hair shave off while I slept, once for being pushed down a staircase, and three times to have hexes removed. Madam Pomfrey and I know each other way too well, and Snape has given me detention with Filch _every single_ one of those times." They started to speak, but I wasn't done. "And you haven't see me around the Great Hall because every time I come in to eat, I find that others are adding soap or spit or potions to my food." I took a deep breath before finishing my rant with, "So _no_ , I am not _okay_."

They stared at me in silent horror for a full minute before Fred said, "I didn't realize it was so bad." My stomach decided to voice its own complaint at that moment and I blushed at the sound.

"When was the last time you ate?" George asked.

I was suddenly shy after my outburst. "Um, I snitched some toast and bacon from the Ravenclaw's table the morning."

"C'mon," Fred said, standing straight.

"Where?" I asked cringing back into my armchair. I didn't need whatever prank they had set up for the vulnerable, little Slytherin. I wasn't sure if I could even take it at that point.

"The kitchens. You have to eat sometime." I eyed them distrustfully, even as my stomach growled at me to go with them. George extended a hand towards me and I flinched.

"I'm just helping you up," he explained, drawing the hand back an inch, but keeping it offered. Very slowly, I let go of my wand, grasped his hand instead and let him help me stand. Fred picked up my bag from where it sat on the ground and George let go of me to pick up the stack of books I had left there. When we passed the front desk, he asked, "Do you need these?" and when I shook my head, left them at the desk.

"Where's Lee?" I asked as we walked down a flight of stairs.

"Not positive, but probably the common room," Fred answered. He explained, "We were on our way back from Quidditch tryouts when we decided to stop by and see you."

"How'd you guys do? Did you get on the team?"

"Yeah. We're beaters and were on the team last year so Oliver knew he wanted us back, it was mostly a formality for us. Didn't find any good seekers though," he added, sounding disappointed.

"Beaters are the ones with the bats, right? And seekers chase the little gold one?" They looked at me like I had just said I was from Pluto.

"Well, basically, yeah," George said uncertainly while Fred asked loudly, "How can someone sound so unsure about Quidditch?"

"It's not really a big sport in the US," I told them. "Too many escaped balls forced stricter regulations, so unless you're at least fifty miles from the nearest town, you can't play."

Fred sounded completely stricken as he whispered, "That's awful." When I looked at his face though, I saw that he was half teasing. "Don't you think that's awful, Georgie?"  
"I can't imagine anything worse," he smiled down at me. I chuckled for the first time since the train ride here.

"I will never understand the male obsession with sports," I told them with mock-exasperation and they launched into a defense of the male species so energetically, I could barely understand it, but that hardly mattered. They were treating me like a friend again and I was grateful. They only ended their speech when we reached a painting of a bowl of fruit. Considering that this was a magic castle, I thought the painting's subject matter was rather dull until Fred reached up and lightly scratched the pear. The pear _giggled_ and twisted until in turned into a green door knob. He turned the knob and a door I hadn't realized was there opened inward, letting us into the shiniest kitchen I had ever seen. A small mob of _somethings_ came toward us and I stepped back.

"Misters Weaslies! Misters Weaslies!" they squeaked at us.

"House elves," Fred whispered to me before greeting to two-foot-tall, bat-eared creatures. Their eyes were huge and they all grinned ear to ear. "Hey, guys," he said to them.

"What can we get you, sirs?" one asked. "We has puddings and pies left from dessert!" they offered.

"Actually, guys, we're here for our friend. This is Miss Skylar French," he motioned to me grandly. "Skylar, these are the Most Helpful House Elves of Hogwarts," he gestured to them just as grandly and they all blushed and giggled.

"Pleased to meet y'all," I told them with a little wave, stepping up even with the twins again. They giggled even more.

"Guys, Skylar here accidently skipped dinner because she was studying so hard," George said, ignoring my look when I heard the lie. "We were wondering if you had any leftovers so she can see how good it was."

"Of course, sirs and miss!" the little elf spokesman said while two others ran off. "You's sits and we will bring foods!" He pointed to several long, very familiar looking tables. They were bare, but they were exactly like the tables in the Great Hall. As they led me over to the one that sat where Gryffindor's table would have been in the Great Hall, George noticed my look of recognition.

"We're exactly under the Great Hall," he said. "Before meals, they put all the food on these tables, then magic it all up to our tables."

"Cool," I murmured as we sat and the twins chuckled when I looked up to inspect the very ordinary looking ceiling too. A series little house elves ran up then, setting food on the table: meatloaf, green beans, mashed potatoes and gravy, rolls, and an entire rhubarb pie. One of them set three plates and sets of silverware on the table while the one behind him put three goblets up and the one behind her put a pitcher of pumpkin juice next to the goblets. They had each scurried away after delivering their dish, making way for the next one. The last one stopped to speak to me though.

"Miss French, it is not good if you do not eats. It is very, very not healthy for you, it is. When you is too busy to go to dinners, you call for us and we will bring you foods." Fred and George, I noticed, were trying very hard to keep straight faces at the house elf's squeaky lecture.

"Thank you, I will. What's your name?" I asked the elf.

"My name is Twiggy, miss," he said uncertainly.

"Well, thank you for taking care of me, Twiggy. I promise to call next time," I assured him.

"Thank you, Mistress!" He scurried away before I could correct the title he had given me.

"Very good," Fred said approvingly dishing food onto a plate before pushing the plate towards me. George was pouring me pumpkin juice, a drink I had found was surprisingly good; I would have thought pumpkin flavored drink would be awful, but it tasted like very sweet pumpkin pie and yet somehow went well with everything. "It always pays to be nice to the house elves. Besides, they're the most helpful little buggers you ever met."

"What do they do here?" I asked, watching them run around doing chores, occasionally disappearing with loud CRACKs.

"Everything," George said. "All the cooking—"

"—Cleaning—"

"—Washing—"

"—Laundry—"

"—Dusting—"

"—Fixing—"

"—Shining—"

"—and oiling in the whole castle," Fred finished the back and forth listing. "Mum always wanted one, but we can't afford it."

"If they do all that, what does Filch do?" I asked mildly.

"Bumble around after his cat," George suggested.

"Are they slaves?" I asked quietly. I didn't like the idea of these sweet little guys being slaves and I didn't like the idea of Hogwarts enslaving them.

"Not really," Fred said. "House elves serve wizards. It's what they want to do and it practically destroys them to be given clothes."

"Um, clothes?" I asked looking at him. I thought I had heard wrong.

"That's the only way for them to be freed, if their masters give them clothes." I looked at the elves again realizing that none of them wore any real clothes. They word towels, rags, and pillow cases instead.

"And they _don't_ want to be freed?" I clarified. I felt like someone had filled my ears with cotton or beeswax or something; so many things seemed backwards.

"Right," George answered. "They like taking care of people. The most Hufflepuff-y creatures I've ever met."

"Huh," was my only response. Still watching the elves. I absent mindedly began eating while the boys helped themselves to the pie.

"So," Fred began. "What are you going to do about the Slytherins?"

"I haven't decided yet," I said turning back to them. "Tatiana is going to wake up with a purple Mohawk tomorrow for cheating on our bet, but other than that, I haven't decided yet. I'm still trying to decide which plan would be the most…effective." Destructive was another promising adjective to describe my current mood towards my house.

"Which plan?" Fred asked. "You have more than one?"

"I have eight, but it's not realistic to use them all at once."

"So you've been thinking about it!" I wasn't sure why this surprised him or made him so excited.

"Of course. I do have some Slytherin traits and I've been hiding out in the library for a week; it only takes so long to do classwork reading. I've been in there plotting since Friday night. What do you think all those books I was using were for?"

"Well what are they?" the twins asked as one, identical and vengeful excitement on their faces. So I explained what I had in mind. Some plans were too complex, some, I didn't know the magic for and would take too long to learn. In the end, only four of my plans were realistic.

"I like this one the best," George, who had been taking notes, said pointing the third bullet in his list. "It's the messiest."

"Think you guys could help me with it? I can't get everything done on my own in time."

"Of course," they grinned quite evilly, and I couldn't hold back my own smile.

"Alright. Food fight it is," I agreed reaching over to circle the listed item.

"C'mon," George said, standing and grabbing the remaining half pie and all our forks.

"Where're we going this time?" I asked, completely willing to follow.

"Our common room. We've got to work everything out before morning, don't we?" I looked at him blankly. Their common room.

"Am I allowed in there?" I asked.

"Nothing says you aren't," Fred shrugged. "Come on. If Percy catches us, he'll try to stop us for no reason at all." We made our way up almost a dozen staircases before stopping in front of a portrait of a very fat woman.

"Password?" she asked.

"Caput Draconis," the twins said in unison.

"Precisely," she told them then paused seeing me. "Wait, who are you?"

"A friend of ours. Can we come in please?" Fred said without hesitation. She gave me another very suspicious look before swinging forward and letting us in. The Gryffindor common room was much warmer than the Slytherin one, both literally and metaphorically. A fire blazed in the fireplace and candles were lit all around, creating a bright environment. The couches and chairs looked softer and more used than those in Slytherin's common room and the place was carpeted instead of tiled. People lounged all around, some studying, some just sitting with friends and laughing. It rather made me never want to go back to the Slytherin common room again.

"You have no idea how lucky you two are," I told them softly as I looked around. They looked at me curiously.

"Well, you can come up whenever you want, how's that?" George said.

"Don't offer that if you don't mean it, because I will take you up on that," I grinned over at him.

"He means it," Fred said. "And so do I."

"Thank you." I hadn't realized how much attention we had attracted until Lee walked up a second later with a very unwelcome expression on his face. I had to force myself to stand my ground and not to step behind one of the boys.

"What's she doing here?" he asked without preamble. "She's Slytherin!"

"She's here to help us prank her entire, stinking house," George said.

"To be more accurate, we're helping her," Fred corrected. Lee and the rest of the watching Gryffindors looked completely confused. I shivered at the feel of so many eyes on us, but I spoke up, needing to show my own strength. I wasn't about to let all these Gryffindors think I couldn't hold my own.

"They've been rather rude since finding out I'm muggleborn, so I've been trying to figure out how to get back at them. I made some plans and Fred and George offered to help." I paused before saying, "You're welcome to help as well, Lee." I figured that if I included him, he might be more helpful, or at least, less hostile. It might make a better impression on the Gryffindors too.

"Alright, what's the plan?" he asked with a small smile and I could feel everyone else in the room lean in to hear.

"Let's go talk in our room," George nodded up a set of stairs to the left. We started that way before he turned back to the room as a whole. "And maybe keep this quiet, huh, guys?" he asked those who had been listening. Several nodded heads, a few "sure"s, a "no problem," and the deal was sealed.

I stayed in the boys' room long past curfew as we plotted and I ended up having to sneak past Percy being distracted by a rule-breaking fifth year and through the rest of the castle to get back to the Slytherin common room. No one had noticed my absence, but everyone in the common room noticed my entrance. "Someone locked me in a closet," I lied to Audrey who had walked stiffly towards me to see why I was out past curfew. "McGonagall just let me out." While everyone laughed, looking at each other to see who had done this brilliant thing, I comforted myself knowing they wouldn't be laughing come breakfast.

The next day dawned kind of beautiful to me; I woke up to Tatiana's screaming. As I had promised Fred and George, before I had fallen asleep, I had waved my wand over the sleeping rich girl and magically messed up her perfect hair. For good measure, I had removed her eyebrows. Technically, this was advanced magic, but it had been one of those things I had learned as fast as I could once I heard about it. "You! You!" she shrieked at me, pointing a manicured finger my way.

"Tatiana," I said innocently. "How could I have done that?" I gestured to the sickly purple Mohawk. "That's NEWT level magic. I'm flattered though that you think I'm that talented though," I offered sweetly. She continued to shriek wordlessly and stomped out of the room. I heard catcalls and whistles and a "What the hell did you do to your hair?" follow her raging. I got ready quickly, needing to set my spell before the main mass of Slytherins went to breakfast. Exiting the common room, there were two others several yards ahead of me and I waited for them to get further away before setting the spell. It was a shield, very similar to the one I cast when they had thrown food at me. It didn't guard against spells, those were much more difficult, but it stopped physical things, including people. But like a one-way mirror in a police station, people could pass through one way, but not the other. I added one more special affect to this shield: it only stopped those wearing Slytherin robes. I passed through the invisible barrier going towards the Great Hall, but stopped attempting to put my arm back through from this side, but was completely unable to. I smirked, satisfied with my work, practically skipping away, just as the door opened and a small party of girls came down the hall.

In the Great Hall, I joined the boys at the Gryffindor table, people smiling at me and making room. They knew something was up to humiliate the Slytherins and they knew I was a part of it, they just didn't know what _exactly_ was up. They were certainly looking forward to it though. "Now?" Fred asked with excitement.

"Not yet," I shook my head. "Wait for more of them to get here." I waited until the table was basically full before nodding to my partners in crime. As one, all four of us muttered a different spell. Early, before any of the rest of the students or teachers had come to breakfast, but after the food had been sent up, the boys had sprinkled four variations of a potion in the Slytherin food. The potion itself did nothing, but last night when we had brewed it, we had added our spells, a different one to each batch. When we said our spells at breakfast, the potions activated causing the food, every dish of which had at least a few drops of the every potion, to fly into chaos.

Lee's spell caused the food to yell insults at the Slytherins, some silly, some actually quite mean.

Fred's spell caused the food to launch itself at the Slytherins, specifically, anyone who had attempted to eat it, so of course all of them.

George's spell caused the food to bite them back, hard enough to leave bruises, but not hard enough for blood.

My spell caused the food to chase them as they ran away. As expected, I heard them run towards the common room, though I knew they would be stopped just feet away from their destination, able to see the door, but not reach it, due to the one-way shield I had set.

I joined the rest of the Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws in laughing at the shrieking and terrified Slytherins as they ran from the Hall, and watched at least half the teachers run after them to attempt undo whatever had been done. "C'mon," Lee said standing, and nodding to me and the twins. "I want to see this before it ends!" We followed him, and two-thirds of the remaining students followed us as we ran down to the Slytherin common room, easily found by following the yelling that reverberated off the walls. Our crowd stopped as one when we found them, laughter ringing on our side, while yelling reigned on the other side, teachers in the middle, wands raised as they calmed the chaos. The potions were disarmed and the shield was taken down within minutes. The food fell limply, some sticking to the students while most fell to the ground.

"Calm down," Snape told the still whimpering Slytherins. "All of you go clean yourselves up." He turned back to the large group of us watching and said threateningly, "If I find the one responsible for this, that individual will be severely punished." His eyes scanned the crowd, pausing when he saw me standing by the Gryffindor pranksters, but finally passed on before he left, brushing through the crowd that parted around him. The other teachers followed him, but McGonagall stopped upon seeing me and the twins.

"Miss French," she asked in a voice that made my stomach drop. "How did you avoid the food attack? I do believe you were to only Slytherin to do so."

"I wasn't sitting at the Slytherin table, ma'am," I answered as innocently as I could. "The Weasleys invited me to eat at the Gryffindor table with them." Her eyebrows rose, I guessed at the fact that Gryffindors had interacted positively with a Slytherin.

"We noticed she had been skipping meals," George explained truthfully and in the most innocent voice I had ever heard from him. "Seems the other Slytherins were slipping unwanted ingredients into her food so much that she was avoiding mealtimes altogether."

"We figured if she sat with us, the Slytherins couldn't taint her food and she could get more than a few bites of toast for once," Fred added. I don't know if she guessed our involvement with this morning's 'mishap', but she turned to me.

"I will speak to the headmaster, Miss French. It will all be taken care of."

"Thank you, ma'am." The hallway had cleared of students and staff and we slowly walked back to the Great Hall. McGonagall left quickly, walking like she was on a mission and as soon as she was out of earshot, the four of us broke.

"Thank you!" I grinned as they laughed in victory. "That was the better than anything I could have done on my own."

"Did you see their faces?" George guffawed, imitating the more entertaining looks of horror.

"Skylar, I think we'll all get along quite well," Fred said putting an arm around my shoulders. "Looks like we finally found a good Slytherin."


	7. Detention and a New Surprise

I would be lying if I said all bullying suddenly stopped. I was still the unwanted mudblood, but enough people suspected me of the prank that the bullying drastically decreased. I was once again able to eat at my own table without fear of my food, though I rarely did, preferring to sit with the boys at the Gryffindor table. As a whole, the Gryffindors didn't hate me anymore, though there was still the few that would shoot me dirty or suspicious looks from across the Gryffindor common room, where I spent more time than I spent in my own common room. From the night of our prank planning on, Fred and George made sure I stayed updated on the Gryffindor password in case they ever weren't there to open it for me.

Only a couple days later, Thursday came with a terrifying event: my first night of detention with Snape. I had completed my first assigned detention with Filch the previous night, but I dreaded this one far more. Filch was annoying with his caustic comments, recommending harsher punishments as I scrubbed toilets with the most disgusting smelling 'muggle' cleaner I had ever smelled, but I would rather re-clean the entire school's toilets than face whatever Snape had planned for me. Fred and George had been detained at a team meeting Oliver had called last minute, but I ended up passing them in the hall as they headed into dinner and I headed out, having to leave early to get to Snape's on time. "Where're you going?" Fred demanded.

"I've got detention with Snape tonight, remember?" I reminded him.

"I thought it was with Filch?" George said with concern.

"That one was last night and a few more next week, but I've got detention with Snape every Thursday for the entire _year_."

"WHAT?" their twin exclamations were loud enough people looked over to investigate.

"Shhhh!" I hissed. "I thought I told you I pissed off Snape. Dumbledore's the one who set the detentions and Snape is as upset as I am, but he can't get out of it which pisses him off even more. Why do you think he told the house I'm muggleborn?" I explained quickly. "Now I've really got to go or I'll be late and he'll find an excuse to hex me too!"

"Wait!" George called, as I started jogging away. "What'd you do?" I turned to face them, still walking backwards as I flashed them a grin.

"I'll never tell!" I laughed at them. I couldn't, I was under oath, but it would be fun to watch them guess. Their frustrated and betrayed expressions were by far the most entertaining thing I had seen all day. I turned forward again and went down the six stories to Snape's office in the dungeons, pausing for just a moment before knocking on the door.

"Come in," his cold and clipped voice said and I had to force myself not to give a cartoon-like gulp as I turned the handle. He didn't look up at me as I entered. The office was poorly lit compared to the rest of the castle, and was even damper than the Slytherin common room. Shelves covered almost every inch of wall, holding jars of, I assumed, potions ingredients. I hoped they were all potions ingredients; though I couldn't think of any potion that called for human eyes or teeth, I prayed he didn't just keep them as decoration. The place smelled like a mixture of mold and formaldehyde, though I doubted wizards used formaldehyde per se. He still wasn't looking at me when he pointed to a rickety chair, so old it looked almost medieval. "Sit," he said, so I did. I thought maybe he would lecture me or give me lines to copy out, but he said nothing else. He went on, apparently grading essays and seeming not to give me another thought.

The essays seemed to be extremely unsatisfactory because he kept cursing the authors, saying things like, "No, you fool, vampire fangs are _not_ lethal. Did we not use them as an ingredient only last week?" or, "Stop bumbling around, idiot, it's obvious you hardly know what the topic is." My personal favorite was, "Miss Bristole, you are remarkably lucky your father will always be there to support you because I doubt any lover or employer will be able to see past your ineptitude." He said all these things to himself very quietly, but I still heard. At one point, he switched stacks of parchment and I checked the clock to see that forty-five minutes had already passed and he had literally had me do _nothing_.

Not that the 'nothing' wasn't still unpleasant. Forget from the nasty smell that seemed to become more pungent with time rather than less and the dim room and the aggravated man across from me. This chair had to be the most uncomfortable chair in all of creation. The legs on one side were shorter than the others which meant that I was sitting at a weird angle as I tried not to topple it. The tall back of the chair had not even the slightest curve to it, until it got to my head; at that point, it tipped forward which meant I felt like I was constantly forced to look down, a position which quickly tied a knot into my neck. The chair had armrests, but they were both too tall to rest my arms on comfortably and too tight to my sides to leave my hands on my lap. I sat there watching the seconds on the clock tick on and on and on. An hour had passed, then an hour and a half…. It was only when two and a half hours had passed that he spoke directly to me again. "Leave now. Be here the same time next week."

"Yes, sir," I said and left without another word. As soon as the office door closed behind me, I reached my arms above my head in a vain attempt to stretch out the crick that had grown in my neck. As I kept walking through the halls I contemplated the detention. On one hand, it hadn't been that bad—uncomfortable yes, but not actually bad—and the worst part had been the suspense. If he continued to do that, the suspense would be gone, though I might turn into a hunchback through the year. I approached the common room's hidden door, only to hear something out of place.

"Psst!" I looked around seeing nothing.

"Over here," I turned my head further until I had turned my whole body almost all the way around. The twins and Jordan were grinning at me from the shadows, only their faces visible until I stepped closer to them.

"Hello there," I smiled. "What are you all doing down here?"

"Waiting for you," Fred said as if this was the most obvious thing. "C'mon!" I followed them easily.

"Where are we going this time?" as I jogged after them.

"It's a surprise," the twins sang. We ran all the way up to Gryffindor tower and I would be lying if I said I wasn't out of breath at that point. We snuck up to their room, carefully avoiding Percy who had a bad habit of making a fuss when he saw me in Gryffindor areas, especially the boys' dormitory even though there was no rule against girls in boys' rooms.

The Gryffindor dormitories compared to Slytherin dormitories was much like comparing the common rooms of the respective houses; Gryffindor's dormitories were less elegant and much cozier. When we reached their room, I flopped down on the extra bed in their room, a remnant of their past roommate; Johnathan Beals, sorted Gryffindor the same year as Lee and the twins, had found he couldn't stand their constant racket and had requested to be moved to another room and for some reason, even after his request was granted, the extra bed remained. It had become my favorite seat.

"So, what's up?" I asked them. George nodded to Fred who reached under his bed and pulled out a covered dish. He grandly swept off the lid to reveal a large container of ice cream and Lee pulled four spoons out of his nightstand's top drawer.

"We brought ice cream to bribe you."

"Thanks, but bribe me for what?" I asked snitching a spoon from Lee. They joined me almost instantly in devouring the dessert.

"Well, first tell us what Snape made you do," George commanded. I took my time savoring a bite of fudge brownie ice cream, enjoying the impatient looks on their faces.

"Well," I said slowly, "he didn't really make me do anything."

"What?!" The exclamation came from all three sides. "How do you mean he didn't make you do anything?"

"When I came in, he had me sit in the most uncomfortable chair in all of creation and ignored me for the next three hours. The suspense was _killing_ me." They looked at me with varying degrees of astonishment and disbelief.

Finally, Fred shrugged, stabbing at the ice cream again. "It's probably just 'cause you're Slytherin. He favors you lot."

"Not me. He legitimately hates me." I winced at how close that word came to the reason he hated me and tried to move on quickly. "I pissed him off last Friday in Potions so bad he tried to expel me. Dumbledore wouldn't let him and forced weekly detentions so Snape told all the Slytherins that I was a muggleborn." I licked the back of my spoon in a very American way.

"What did you do?" Lee demanded.

"I can't tell you," I said sing-song. They started coming up with the wildest ideas possible, everything from turning him into a toad to magically shaving his head. I just rolled my eyes and mimed zipping my lips before eating more ice cream. I wondered idly if this carton was magically refilling itself.

"Fine, don't tell us," George finally conceded as I put my spoon down, pleasantly satisfied. "But you have to do us one favor."

"What?" They looked at one another with conspiratory looks and Fred slid something out of his pocket.

"What do you make of this?" he asked like a test. I stared at what he had handed me: an old, folded piece of parchment.

"A mangy old piece of paper?" I asked skeptically.

"Oi!" George said as if personally offended. "Be nice!"

"I give up," I sighed with a smile. "What is it?" Fred shook his head as if to a toddler and Lee made a clucking sound with his tongue.

"We're not going to let you in that easily," the black boy shook his head as if disappointed. "You have to figure it out the same way we did."

"Oh, shove it, Lee! We did all the work," George grinned over at his friend who aimed a stinging hex back.

"You two might have nicked it, but I helped you make it talk! And I'm the one who guessed what it was _before_ it opened."

"Only after they practically told you!"  
"You dunces hadn't put it together yet!"

I cut off Fred's apparently upcoming response. "Hello? Y'all gonna tell me what's going on?" I asked charming their pillows to bash them all on the heads. They got retribution by each aiming a pillow at me, meaning that I got hit three times as much as any of them did. Before it could turn into a full out war, which would probably have been epic, I froze all the pillows in the room so that six pillows hung uselessly in the air. "Stop…." I paused making sure the ceasefire was permanent before letting all the pillows fall. "Now, at least give me a hint about this," I demanded flicking the parchment. "A useful hint," I added when Fred and George both opened their mouths with mischief in their eyes. They pouted as if I had taken their fun away.

"This is the secret to all our success," Fred said, already recovered.

"All of it?" I asked skeptically. "What's it do? Teach new spells?"

"Every once in a long while," George shrugged. "We couldn't have gotten nearly as far though without this, so pay attention," he said the last bit as severely as McGonagall.

"Paying attention," I told them, opening my eyes as wide as I could like a good little pupil. "Now, what is it, Teachers?"

"Oh no, don't pay attention to _us_ ," Fred said as if I had missed the point of everything. "Pay attention to _that_."

"The _parchment_?" I asked in total confusion.

"It'll teach you everything you need to know to use it," Lee promised. "It took us a whole, what was it?" he checked with the twins, "Two months? Three?"

"Nine and a half weeks." I didn't like my chances. I had never been the most patient of people. Fred continued, "We're going to entrust it to you while you figure it out, on the condition that you let us borrow it back when we need it, deal?" I checked their eyes, looking for a prank, but I didn't see the telltale signs that usually lurked. I looked again at the parchment. It just looked so old and raggedy, how could it possibly be useful. But I checked their eyes again and found myself willing to look absolutely ridiculous to figure this out.

"Alright. What do I need to do?" I asked.

"You'll find that out for yourself, promise," George said. "Now off to bed with you," he said suddenly in a voice that sounded suspiciously like Percy's. "It's no good for you to be up at this hour!"

"And in the Boys' Dormitories!" Fred added in an equally pompous tone, sounding horrified.

"Oh shut up, you lot," I told them tossing the pillows at their heads again as I stood and slipped the parchment into my bag. "G'night, boys," I waved over my shoulder.

"G'night, Skylar!" they sang after me, imitating my accent as the door swung closed.


	8. The Marauders Teach Me a Thing or Two

If one were to observe me over the next couple months, that one, and whoever they pointed me out to, might come to the understandable conclusion that I had gone crazy. Because what else is one to assume when I spend a good amount of my spare time talking to a piece of paper?

"Have you figured it out yet?" Fred asked me at breakfast the next morning. I grumbled slightly at his strangely chipper attitude that did not belong so early in the morning. "Watch your language there, now have you figured it out?"

"Haven't had a chance," I grumbled into a bowl of cereal. "Tatiana refuses to take her eyes off me anymore when I happen to be in the same room with her."

"So?"

"So I thought this was supposed to be a secret." Without further warning, Fred and George each grabbed an arm and frog marched me out of the Great Hall into the currently unused room they had stuffed the first years into before the Sorting. Lee followed along with my cereal and some bacon.

George spoke over my low cursing, "We want to see you at least start this," he said. "We'll let you do the rest on your own."

"Fine," I sighed when they plopped me into a chair and dug into my bag placing the parchment on my lap.

"Well go on," Fred urged.

"Alright, Raggedy Page," I said giving up and not expecting much. There wasn't any point arguing with the boys here. "What can you do?"

"Oi, Skylar," George objected. "Don't insult it!"

"Why not?" I demanded. "In my experience, both people and inanimate objects work best when thoroughly insulted. They're trying to prove that they're worth something." It had always worked with the computer in my dad's office at least. "Besides," I added, "that was barely rude." Just then though, writing appeared on the parchment, and it apparently did not agree with my last sentiments.

 _"Mister Moony would like to welcome our new sharp-tongued witch and invite her to shut her trap."_

"What the heck!" I exclaimed. "Who did that?"

"Mister Moony did. His friend will be by eventually," Fred said with a wide grin and a gleam in his eye. "We'll let you two get to know one another now." With that, they left me alone with a paper that apparently wrote for itself. I really hoped this wasn't a prank from the twins. My conversation with the paper continued through the next several weeks, whenever people weren't listening. It didn't always answer right away, but eventually, an answer always came. And as promised, Mister Moony had friends.

 _"Mister Wormtail first inquires of the annoying witch's name, and then encourages her to either follow Mister Moony's advice or find a course on manners, the ignorant American."_

"I'm Skylar French and I'm perfectly proud of my country, Mr. Wormtail. I can be polite if I want to and I don't take orders from dingy scraps of paper."

 _"Mister Prongs objects to the term 'dingy'. Our secrets have been permanently etched on the most regal of parchments."_

"Oh, yeah? Prove it." Yes, I was arguing with invisible people like a two year old.

 _"Mister Wormtail—"_

 _"Mister Padfoot has not had his turn yet and would like to remind all involved that the Marauders do not take orders from uncultured swine."_

"Now you sound completely German. Besides, in a school named after a wart-ridden pig, how bad an insult can 'swine' be?"

 _"Mister Moony would like to insert that the Marauders have nothing against Germans, only this particular American, but reminds her that she will learn nothing from us until she uses the password."_

"Give me a hint?"

 _"Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs refuse."_

"Oh, c'mon guys. Give a girl a chance."

 _"Mister Padfoot might consider Miss French's request if she were more polite."_

"Oh Wise Masters, please impart unto me of your wisdom."

 _"Mister Prongs detects sarcasm in Miss French's response and reminds her that her manners must be as sincere as any gentlewoman's."_

I stuck my tongue out at the paper.

 _"Mister Prongs saw that and takes offense."_

 _"Mister Padfoot demands that Miss French will have to work doubly hard to earn the Marauder's help now."_

"Grrr. Where are you? How could you possibly have seen that, huh?"

 _"Mister Wormtail wishes to inform Miss French that the Marauders are everywhere and know all secrets."_

"You know you Marauders have double standards, right? You know all secrets, but I can't know any of yours?"

 _"Mister Moony encourages Miss French that she will learn the Marauder's secrets when she has successfully earned that knowledge."_

"Hm. How Ravenclaw-y."

 _"Mister Prongs insists that that is at least better than Slytherin-y."_

"Don't hate on the whole house. We don't all live up the marvelous stereotypes."

 _"Mister Moony detects more sarcasm."_

 _"Mister Padfoot wishes to clarify that Miss French just admitted to being Slytherin."_

"Miss French did indeed 'admit' to being Slytherin, gents. She's a muggleborn Slytherin from America who spends more time in the Gryffindor common room than she spends in her own."

 _"~"_

 _"~"_

 _"~"_

 _"~"_

"Are you lot still there?"

 _"~"_

 _"~"_

 _"~"_

 _"~"_

"Will you tell me what this parchment is now, please?"

 _"~"_

 _"~"_

 _"~"_

 _"~"_

"Hello? If you don't start answering, I'm going to start writing on this parchment."

 _"DON'T!"_

 _"DON'T!"_

 _"DON'T!"_

 _"DON'T!"_

"There you are. Hello again."

 _"Mister Prongs would like to express his confusion with Miss French's house and life decisions."_

 _"Mister Padfoot concurs with Mister Prongs and would like to also express his new and intense distrust."_

"You guys are Gryffindor, huh?"

 _"Mister Moony wishes to say that the Marauders are quite proud of their Gryffindor residency and would like to add that Gryffindor far trumps all other houses."_

"Miss French would like to say that she is perfectly jealous."

 _"Mister Wormtail desires an explanation."_

"Well, I certainly didn't ask to be in Slytherin and I'm not too proud of my house right now, nor have I, as a muggleborn, been especially welcomed by my housemates."

 _"Mister Wormtail extends his sympathies."_

 _"Mister Moony agrees and also wishes Miss French luck."_

"Thanks, boys, but I've used my Slytherin traits to get them back for their crap. We rather marvelously got revenge on them last month."

 _"Mister Prongs applauds whatever was done to get back at the twits and heartily wishes Miss French had done more."_

 _"Mister Padfoot desires an explanation of what exactly was done to the inbred slime balls."_

"Food fight in the Great Hall. Breakfast attacked them. Also, my prissy roommate woke up with a purple Mohawk, mysteriously."

 _"Mister Prongs actually approves of that use of sarcasm."_

 _"Mister Wormtail expresses his vast amusement."_

 _"Mister Moony asks how the Marauders might assist in further vengeance on the Slytherins. Or whomever else would make entertaining targets."_

"Well, the twins and Lee insist that whatever you have hidden on here is extremely helpful to pranksters…."

 _"Mister Prongs finally concedes to offer hints to Miss French so that she might prove herself worthy of Marauder secrets."_

"Miss French offers her thanks."

 _"Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs are glad to finally see Miss French's manners."_

"Oh, hush." I stuck out my tongue again.

 _"Mister Moony saw that."_

"Good."

Over the next several weeks, the Marauders, whoever they really were, would drop hints here and there, giving me passwords word by word. They started by telling me how to close whatever this was down, worried that if I couldn't when I opened it, their secrets would be left out for everyone to see. Mister Padfoot started by telling me that the first word sounded a bit like 'handkerchief' and was something all pranksters got into. I arrived at the word 'mischief' quickly and Mister Prongs said that from now on it would be much harder. Sometimes weird word puzzles would appear on the parchment for me to solve, sometimes the parchment would get warm in my pocket and the Marauders would all be shouting at me that I just said the next word, making me go back over my recent conversations word for word until I found the correct one. Finally, seven weeks and three days from the evening the boys had set the ratty parchment on my lap, I was pretty sure I had it, both the passwords to open and close the I-still-didn't-know-what.

Every morning the twins had asked if I had it yet. Finally, came the morning when I could say yes. I had been so tempted to test my hypothesis before I met them for breakfast, at least in part because I didn't want to make a total fool of myself if I had it wrong, but for weeks they had told me that they couldn't wait to see my expression when I saw _it_. So I waited for breakfast. When they asked and I told them I had, they marched me out of there so fast, I didn't even have time for a cup of milk. "Show us," George commanded pushing me into the same room as before.

Taking a deep breath and praying that I had this right, I placed the paper on the table and said, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." The boys whooped and I knew I had it right, but I barely heard them. I was paying more attention to the lines that were appearing. Nothing this intricate had appeared before that I had seen while I talked to the Marauders. Trails of ink spiraled out from the center and Fred reach forward, unfolding the parchment as the lines traveled further. In the center read the words: _Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present THE MARAUDERS MAP_.

It took me a moment before I said, "That's Hogwarts!" The map of the school was perfect in every detail. The boys chuckled at my shock and without a word, pointed to a small cluster of dots. Above each dot was a name and as I looked closely at the delicate writing, I read _Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Lee Jordan, Skylar French_. "That's us! Is that…?" I trailed off absent-mindedly testing my own theory as I picked up the map and walked across the room, away from the boys. The dot labeled _Skylar French_ followed my movements exactly without any delay. I looked into the map's depiction of the Great Hall next door where there were hundreds of dots, most of them in some sort of movement, even if it was just swaying on one spot. There were so many names, most of them overlapping, that you couldn't really read who was where unless the people were a little isolated; walking down the aisle, at the teacher's table, stoically avoiding society. "This is epic!" I spun to tell the boys.

"And that Miss French, is the secret to our success—"

"—and why when we pay attention, we never get in trouble."

"Where exactly did you get this?"

"Stole it from Filch our first year. It was in a cabinet labeled 'Confiscated and Highly Dangerous'. Don't think the poor bloke ever learned to use it though."

"Now, let's see you close it up, so we can go get breakfast. If we take it out like that, then anyone will be able to see it." I sighed, wanting to study it more, but actually very hungry.

"Fine," I said almost sadly. "Mischief managed, even though I didn't really get to do anything," I added sticking my tongue out at the boys. I almost missed the last words before they disappeared.

 _"Mister Wormtail wishes Miss French his congratulations."_

 _"Mister Prongs wishes Miss French luck in her future schemes."_

 _"Mister Padfoot encourages her to wreak havoc on Slytherin house—Merlin knows it's about time someone did."_

 _"Mister Moony advises Miss French to keep that tongue in her mouth before someone hexes it off."_


	9. Halloween

I wanted to spend every spare second with that map. It was almost hypnotizing watching everyone run around here and there, like ants on a picnic blanket. Unfortunately, once I had figured out how to use it, Fred and George had taken it back into their custody. Though I knew that they would share if needed, I also understood that it wasn't just something to play with. The twins taught me the secret passages throughout the castle, shortcuts through halls, the best places to hide, even passages that led out of the castle, off Hogwarts grounds entirely.

October was coming to an end which meant Halloween. In the muggle world, Halloween was an excuse for kids to overdose on sugar and for adults to dress slutty. In the wizarding world though, Halloween was a day to celebrate the fact that we were still here, thriving in spite of our secrecy. At least, that's how Audrey explained it to the common room as the date approached. There was to be a grand feast and, for those third year and older, a day free of classes and a trip to Hogsmead, the local wizarding village. It should have been the twins first time to the village, but they admitted to having used those secret passageways to get there a several times before and Lee admitted to having tagged along once or twice.

"You're coming, right?" George asked me the evening before as we hung out in their common room, slightly away from the fireplace that a group of sixth years had claimed. I glanced around to make sure no one was listening before I answered.

"If I get caught, I'm blaming you guys for kidnapping me," I threatened with a small smile. They grinning in that scheming way of theirs.

"We'd never let you get caught," Fred said with a wink. "We need you brains too much." He pulled the map out of his bag and set it on the table in front of me, all of us scooting closer to the table in order to shield it from those around us, though no one was paying attention to us. "Now," he said very seriously. "How are you going to get there?" I grinned at the challenge in his voice.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," I promised the map. The delicate lines webbed across the parchment and within seconds, the map of the school lay before me and within my power. They had already told me that there were seven passageways in and out of Hogwarts and had pointed them all out on the map or when we passed nearby in the halls. They had explained which ones Filch knew about and checked regularly, and the one that was far too dangerous to use, under the Whomping Willow, a rather pugnacious tree on the grounds of the school. There were really only two useful ones left, both of which surfaced in Hogsmead. The first lead to the basement of Honeydukes, a wizard candy shop Lee claimed to be "the pinnacle of all that is good in this world", while the second lead to an abandoned building on the edge of the town. Now I just had to remember which was where. I scanned the map trying to remember while the boys watched me, my face screwed up in concentration. "Here," I finally said pointing to a lone corner of the school on the fourth floor. "This one will take me to that abandoned building, right?"

"Very good," George said approvingly. "Now how do you open it?" This was the fun one to open.

"The passage is behind the mirror so you have to do a pirouette then bow to your reflection."

"Full marks, Miss French," Fred said in an impressive imitation of Professor McGonagall. I had one class during to first period of the day, but it was agreed that I would meet the boys at a pub called The Hogs Head, just a street over from the abandoned building. They entrusted me with the map for the night and I was had to run back to my own common room, just barely beating curfew for the third time that week.

The morning of Halloween, I was twitchy, ready to sneak off. I could barely pay attention in my Defense Against the Dark Arts class, but I didn't seem to be the only one and even Professor Quirrell didn't seem all that focused on his lesson. I kept glancing at the clock, unable to believe how slow time was moving. When the bell finally released us, I all but ran from the room, hurrying more than was advisable when trying to sneak off and break the rules. "French!" an unknown voice called out just as I rounded a corner, exiting the main stream of students. I didn't stop for the voice until it called again, closer than before. "French, wait up!" I turned back to the voice, shoving my bag behind me as if whoever had been chasing me was planning to search my bag, where they would find the deactivated map.

The boys who stood facing me was a Slytherin, my year, but I had never actually spoken to him I didn't think. I was rather shocked—Slytherins _never_ talked to me, unless they were finding some way to insult me. But there was no mocking or condemnation on his face and I regarded him warily. "What?" I demanded, harsher than I intended. He held his hands up as if in surrender.

"Calm down, calm down!" he said worriedly, "I'm not going to hex you." He glanced uneasily at my right hand which I hadn't realized was in my pocket, wrapped around my wand. I uncurled my fingers and withdrew my hand. It felt unnatural to let my hand dangle at my side, empty and loose.

"What's up?" I asked again, trying to sound more casual. He lowered his hands and eyed me just as critically as I eyed him; what can I say? We were Slytherins, slow to trust and ready to pounce.

"I was wondering," he began, but seemed to rearrange his thought. "See, my roommates and I have a bet going. We're wondering if you were really a part of that prank beginning of the year."

"You're still on about that?" I asked incredulously. "That was ages ago!" We had pulled a few things since then, but none as big as that one. The twins were considering something to do with blowing up the school's toilets, an idea their mother had somehow given them, but that was in the early stages of brainstorming and I doubted would ever actually be put into action.

"So you were in on it," he guessed, an excited tinge to his voice. Suddenly suspicious again, I tried to call up a blank mask before I answered.

"There is not 'right' answer to that question," I answered stiffly. "If I say that I didn't do it, you'll either say that I'm lying or you'll goad me by saying a Mudblood like me didn't have the power to pull any of that off. If I say that I did do it though, you'll run straight off to Snape with the news of my confession."

"I wouldn't tattle," he objected.

"Not even to get the ickle Mudblood in trouble?" I asked skeptically, full of annoyance. Of course he would tattle. It would get him both house points from Snape and popularity points from the other Slytherins for getting the Mudblood in trouble.

"Why do you keep calling yourself that?" he asked and I blinked at the subject change.

"What?"

"Why do you keep calling yourself that word?" At my continued look of confusion, he leaned in slightly to whisper, "Mudblood," looking startled when I laughed.

"You're Isaac Willworth," I asked, pretty sure I was right. At his nod, I continued, "Well, Willworth, I use that word because it doesn't mean anything to me." His eyebrows rose and he looked like he was going to speak before I cut him off. "I was raised by muggles, which I have never considered to be a bad thing. When I joined the wizarding world, I went to Salem School of Sorcery where they cared that you had magic, but didn't care where it came from. At least fifteen percent of the school was muggleborn so it wasn't exactly a big deal. Even your meaning of the word means nothing to me because I know it's wrong. I use the word because it's absolute gibberish to me." He looked at me in confusion and I wondered if this was the first time someone had explained to him that words only had the power you gave them. While he pondered the idea, I looked around desperately for a clock. I had meant to be gone ten minutes ago and the boys would start to wonder what had happened to me. I couldn't have them leave that pub without me—I might never find them again—so I started to inch away from Isaac. "I've gotta go," I said. "I'll see you around."

"Wait," he called just before I turned another corner. "Did you do it or not?"

I looked over my shoulder just long enough to grin and call, "See ya!" and I was off.

"What took you so long?" Fred asked when I finally dropped my bag next to him at the bar.

The bartender eyed me, probably perfectly aware that I wasn't supposed to be there, and asked if I wanted a butterbeer too. I eyed the classes on the counter, all caked with grime and shook my head with a "No thanks." Besides, the only money I had to my name was muggle money and was in my trunk in the castle.

"Did you get lost?" George asked.

"No, the map was easy to follow," I assured them. The tunnel had been almost cavernous, and my footsteps had echoed the whole way through, but the path the clear and easy to follow. "Do you guys know Isaac Willworth?" I asked. They all shook their heads as we gathered our things and exited the pub, George paying the tab and, it looked like, giving him a tip to not mention me. "He's a Slytherin in my year—"

"What'd he do to you?" all three asked in hard unison, suddenly looking upset.

"Nothing," I soothed, secretly pleased with how protective they were. "He just caught me after class with a question."

"Oh," George said sounding a little puzzled. They all knew that the Slytherins, the vast majority anyways, didn't like me much and apparently the idea of one of them approaching me without some evil plot was quite foreign to them. Then again, it was rather foreign to me as well.

"What did he want?" Lee asked, similarly confused.

"He was asking if I was really in on the food fight. Apparently, he and his roommates have a bet going."

"What'd you tell him?"

"I didn't really answer either way," I explained. "I wasn't sure how he planned to use the information. And then," I paused, knowing the next part would shock them as much as it had shocked me. "Then he got upset at me for calling myself 'mudblood'."

"He did?" George asked at the same moment Fred asked, "Why were you calling yourself that?" I sighed, having to explain the whole thing again.

"It doesn't mean anything to me. Besides, if I call myself Mudblood, they can't use it against me."

"I don't like it," Fred complained, grudgingly accepting my logic.

"I know," I said, then sighed. "Let's change the subject. Where're we going?" These boys could plot revenge with a vengeance, but they also didn't hold on to unpleasant things for too long so my request was granted immediately.

"In here," Lee pointed to a shop just further. "I need a new quill. I've lost all mine." The twins snickered in such a way that I figured it was a safe assumption to make that they had something to do with at least some of those disappearances. The shop we entered was cluttered, shelves stacked and stuffed to the ceiling, but organized with everything in its place. While Lee got his quills, I explored. This shop had to be one of the coolest school/office supply shops anywhere. I didn't love quills, pens just were so much easier to use, but even I had to admit that these quills were cool. Some were spell checking quills, some wrote so that only the writer could read the words, and then there was just the fanciness of some of the quills, peacock feathers and eagle feathers, and even what had to be a phoenix feather. The inks were no less captivating than the quills. There was every color under the sun, not to mention invisible and glitter. There was every color of sealing wax and an especially expensive wax that wouldn't come off without a password. There was parchment and stationary in varying degrees of fancy, from the stuff we used at school to the kind of thing only wedding invitations should be printed on. I got distracted by the journals. Some were very plain, some had the Hogwarts or house crests emblazoned on the front, some had moving pictures of the beach or forests or even a campfire on the front. In one, the writing could only be seen by those who knew the right series to tap on the spine. I tried not to be too disappointed by my utter lack of funds.

We headed to Zonko's next, a joke shop that was absolutely packed with students. The proprietor, Zonko, seemed to know the boys well, despite the fact they should never have been here before, and gave them a wave as we passed through the door. Magical fire crackers, which could be deafeningly loud or long-lasting, and dungbombs, which were exactly what they sounded like, seemed to be the most popular items in the store and the boys all loaded up on them, as well as a few other prank-helping items. I wandered again, trying again to stay unnoticed. One aisle was full of books, which surprised me until I looked at the type of books. One side was full of spell books, all of which contained… _entertaining_ hexes and curses. The other side of the aisle contained joke books, some of which I noticed giggling. There was exploding jelly, which activated with a flick of the wand, Sticky-Stuck, which was basically highly advanced superglue which claimed to work on any solid surface, teacups that bit their users, an assortment of trick candy, one kind caused hiccups while another caused gas and another caused huge zits. There were more things in this shop than I could have ever imagined and as I wander through the aisles, the wheels in my mind were practically dancing.

"Getting any good ideas?" Fred asked, sneaking up behind me, disappointed when I didn't jump; they had been trying to scare me for months, but had been largely unsuccessful thus far.

"Loads," I grinned up at him, putting just the littlest bit of _evil_ in my tone.

"That sounds rather terrifying," George said, sneaking up on my other side with Lee beside him. "Care to share with the class?" I nodded to the Sticky-Stuck on my left.

"Spread that outside a common room entrance or in Percy's shampoo." They grinned mischievously and Lee grabbed a tube before they all took their purchases to the counter, joining the long line of students already there.

"Aren't you going to get anything?" George asked standing behind his brother who was discussing with Lee if there was any way to prolong the stench of dungbombs.

"I left my money in the castle. Besides, all my money is muggle. And American." Not to mention the fact that it wasn't technically mine considering the fact that I had stolen it all.

"Didn't you exchange it at Gringotts?" he asked. "Dad likes to hang around the exchange tables to talk to the muggles that bring their kids through. Mad about muggles he is." They had already told me that last bit and this Arthur Weasley puzzled me—why would you want to hang out with muggle stuff when you had magic, which made everything so much easier?

"No, we didn't even go into Gringotts," I told him. "I'm here on scholarship. They've got a fund for books and supplies if you can't afford it."

"Oh," he said, looking surprised. I had never pretended to be rich, had I? "You really didn't bring _any_ money with you?" I opened my mouth to say that I had already explained that I did have money, but he cut me off. "Real money that you can spend here." Oh.

"Nope," I said. "Honestly, I didn't even know you could exchange money," I added. I would have to exchange at least half my money next summer when we went back to Diagon Alley. I wondered to myself if the fact that it was foreign muggle money would make a difference.

"Surely, your parents didn't expect you to be able to use that muggle stuff here?" he asked making it sound so perfectly obvious and I prickled just a bit. I had needed money and this is what I could get my hands on. It was better than nothing, wasn't it? Before I had to answer, it was his turn to buy his things and I hoped that by the time he finished, he would have forgotten about the whole thing. Perhaps he would have, but unfortunately, Fred, who had finished his purchases and had his things under one arm, decided to join our conversation when Lee wandered off to talk to a friend.

"Well?" Fred asked. I've never been able to bluff so he could see in my face that I was hiding something and he didn't approve. That was one of the biggest differences I had noticed between the Gryffindors and Slytherins: Gryffindors were open about what was going on and expected everyone else to be too while Slytherins let you have your secrets because they had their own. I hadn't told the boys about my family yet, a feat which had been easier than I thought it would be, and though I had never expected to hide it forever, I wasn't particularly keen to spill.

"They, uh, didn't give me the money. I kind of stole it before they officially kicked me out." I winced waiting for their reactions. Both boys froze and turned stiffly to stare at me. The cashier had to cough several times to get George's attention back to pay for his merchandise.

"What the bloody hell do you mean they kicked you out?" Fred sounded as angry as George looked as he snatched his things from the clerk. With one hand, George grabbed my arm and steered me out the front door. Lee joined us, confused at the suddenly charged atmosphere.

"What's going on, guys?" Lee sounded concerned, ready to fight against whatever enemy was against us, just like any good Gryffindor would.

"Her parents!" Fred said without any coherency.

"What about them?"

"They kicked her out!" George's exclamation just as disjointed as Fred's had been.

"What? Out of where?" Lee asked, this time turning directly to the source: me. I opened my mouth to answer, but Fred cut me off. We were standing outside, still in front of Zonko's, and though we had out cloaks pulled close around us, it was chilly.

"In here," he said shortly, gesturing to a pub across the street, this one far more popular and crowded than the one we had met at an hour and a half ago. The sign above the door proclaimed the place to be The Three Broomsticks. George pushed to the front counter while Fred, Lee and I pushed through the crowd, finding a table in the back corner. I had put my hood up in an attempt to remain unrecognized in the crowd and as I took the most hidden seat of the lot, I let the hood fall back to my shoulders. As soon as George sat down with us, setting a tray of four drinks, butterbeers I knew though I had never had one, all three of them leaned in, staring at me intently, and the twins commanded, "Spill it, French."

I sighed, not liking this situation at all, but also knowing that I couldn't hide this anymore and I was not willing to lie to some of the only friends I had. "I told you my parents don't care for magic," I started, meaning to go on, but was interrupted immediately.

"Not caring for magic is a far cry from kicking you out of your home!" George raised his voice.

"Shut up!" I hissed, leaning as far out of the crowd's view as I could. "People will hear you!" He quieted, but I could see him grinding his teeth while Fred's hands were curled into fists and Lee was swearing under his breath. I took a deep breath to start again. "We're very religious and they think my magic means that I practice devil worship or that I've been possessed by a demon or something. I wanted to learn though, I was so sure I could show them that it wasn't all bad like they thought so I convinced them to let me go to Salem. They were sure that as soon as I was in the magical world, I would see it for the evil they think it is. We struck a deal before I left that if I still wanted to study magic after the first year, I had to do it somewhere else; they would send me wherever and then they would never think of me again." I paused, my voice getting scratchy and my eyes getting wet. I didn't like my parents still having that over me and I swallowed and blinked impatiently until I was me again. "I was positive they would understand when I told them there wasn't anything devilish at my school, but they didn't and they insisted that the bargain be followed. I sent a letter to three different schools asking them to accept me to study with them, and Hogwarts' was the only reply written in English, so I ended up here."

"Why didn't you tell us?" George asked. He didn't say it like he was offended, though most others would have. The twins were usually so open, unless planning a prank, that I doubt he could imagine something holding something like this in for so long. I shrugged noncommittally and took a sip from the drink they had handed me. It spread warmth through me and was so completely unlike anything I had ever had before. I suddenly wondered if it had alcohol in it. I had realized that England was a bit more lax on a drinking age than America was and wizards were even more lax than muggles.

"George, you guys couldn't have done anything more to change it than I could have, which was nothing. Besides, what's the point in sharing an unhappy memory?"

"Skylar, we can change whatever the hell we want!" The confidence was nice even if, in this case at least, I knew they were wrong.

"Even you guys couldn't make my parents accept my magic," I told him with a sigh. He looked like he was about to object so I added, "Besides, even if you could, that would put me back in the U.S. and not here with you." I tried to make my tone teasing and upbeat, but they didn't look like they were buying what I was selling.

"If you don't live with your family," Lee asked, "where _do_ you live?" All three of them were one again listening very intently and again, there was no way to avoid this.

"Ottery St. Catchpole's Home for Children."

"That's a bloody orphanage!" Fred and George both cried out. People turned to see what was going on, and again I had to duck out of sight.

"Shut up!" I growled. "If I get caught out here, I'll get expelled and then I really will have to go back to America!" Their voices lowered, but the anger persisted.

"They sent you to live in a bloody orphanage?" Fred demanded while George continued swearing under his breath.

"They don't care where I end up, remember? That's the deal: I get magic and they forget me. Dumbledore knew this orphanage happened to house a couple other Hogwarts students so he had someone set it up for me to live there for the six summers until I graduate." Oh, that sounded awful. I didn't want to be tied to that place for six years! It was a deeply depressing thought. "At least it's only summers," I said trying to cheer myself up.

"That's—" Lee couldn't seem to find the right words for whatever he was thinking.

"Wretched," Fred supplied helpfully, scowling at his mug.

"Shameful," George added.

"A fact of life," I told them, wishing they would change the subject already. I could see the wheels spinning in the twins' heads and they tried to find a way around this.

"All of the above," Lee agreed taking a swig. We sat in silence for several moments before George sat up almost straight from his slump.

"What about the money?" he asked. "The stuff you stole."

"You stole money?" Lee asked, having not heard this part of the earlier conversation.

"Yeah, from my parents," I explained before turning back to George. "But like you said, it's worthless here. I'll exchange it into wizarding currency next summer when I have a chance to get to Gringotts," I shrugged.

"Yeah, but you got revenge!" Of course I did. I was sorted Slytherin for a reason.

"Not enough to last the rest of my life, but it was a damn good start," I said bitterly. They raised their eyebrows at me in unison; I almost never swore, and even then, it was usually under my breath.

"How much did you steal?" Lee asked, impressed.

"Five hundred U.S. dollars. Plus a few hundred dollars on an upgrade on an already nine hundred dollar airplane ticket and then another hundred dollars in online purchases. I probably cheated them out of nine hundred dollars so they ended up spending eighteen hundred on me." I could feel the self-satisfied smirk on my face and at the looks of shock on their faces, felt very… Slytherin in that moment.

"How many Galleons is that?" Fred asked at last.

"Um, I don't know the exchange rate. What is a Galleon in muggle money?"

"About five pounds," Lee said. "My mum had to exchange money once."

"U.S. money isn't worth as much as British pounds, so…" I tried to mentally do the math. "About a hundred and twenty galleons overspent? And about seventy galleons of that in cash in my trunk?" Their jaws all dropped. "Is that a lot?" I asked unsure. Maybe it wasn't very much and wouldn't do me any good.

"I don't think I've ever seen that much," Lee whispered.

"I know I haven't," both twins said with awe. I blushed.

"I just didn't want to be on my own with nothing," I defended myself.

"Well they deserved it," George said, sounding very sure of himself and the other two nodded with the same surety. I blushed again, this time very grateful. Some would have said that nothing was worth stealing that money. I was glad my friend didn't condemn me for my unrighteous actions, though perhaps they should have. We ordered lunch there and I felt bad not being able to pay for my own. "You can pay us back when you get that money switched the right way around," they laughed at me and I was grateful again.

They took me all over the rest of the afternoon, first stopping in Honeydukes, where they loaded up on sugar of every sort, more than I had ever imagined. Most of what they bought was for eating, but some was for pranking people with. They had separated that stuff out and handed me that bag to carry. While it wasn't illegal, Filch had promised to search them carefully when they returned and having me carry this stuff through my way might keep them out of trouble if it turned up. We spent the rest of the afternoon window shopping and plotting. When the majority of the students were returning the castle, cheeks pink and grinning, I headed back through my secret way, the map in one hand and the prank candy in my other, cheeks just as pink and grin just as wide as everyone else's.

"Where've you been?" Isaac Willworth asked walking up beside me on the way to Halloween feast.

"Library," I lied trying to keep my face straight. "I had some studying to do."

"I didn't see you in there." He sounded suspicious.

"I know the best places to hide in there in those shelves. Had to find somewhere to spend time when you were all out to get me," I snarked. I smiled though to show I wasn't upset with him. He looked down as if ashamed before looking back up and catching the smile.

"Sit with us at the feast?" he offered, motioning to his friends who walked a little ahead of us. I recognized them on sight, but couldn't quite remember their names. I had figured I would sit at the Gryffindor table, but at Isaac's invitation, I found myself nodding.

"Sure," I said. It would be good to make allies in my own house, I thought to myself then grimaced inwardly when I realized how _pureblooded_ that sounded. When Fred and George caught my eye across the hall, I shrugged and motioned to Isaac and his friends, gesturing that I would come talk to them in a bit. Isaac introduced me to his friends and roommates, Joshua Millet, Terrence Higgs, and Justin Glort. They each shook my hand politely before belting out a question. Millet and Higgs both asked if I was in on the food prank while Glort asked if I had been the one to mess up Tatiana's hair. I laughed out loud and said quite innocently, "I have no idea what you're all talking about."

"Damn," Higgs and Millet each flipped a coin to Isaac and Glort. When I eyed them carefully, Glort put up a hand like a pledge. "Don't worry, we won't tell. We were just a little surprised at your guts."

"Not because your muggleborn," Isaac said before I could react. "Because you seemed to be always hiding out in the library."

"Nice save," I rolled my eyes at him. "But you should visit the library more. There's lots of spells in those books to be used on…opposing parties," I smirked at them. Before they had a chance to respond, Dumbledore stood to give his usual speech and announcements then released us as our food appeared on golden platters lining the middle of the table, just as it had at the welcoming feast. Before we could get very far into our meals though, the doors banged open and Quirrell ran down the middle aisle between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables.

"Troll!" he cried in a panic. We looked at him in confusion. "Troll in the dungeon! Thought you ought to know," he added faintly before collapsing to the ground. There was a split second of silence before everyone around me broke into scrambling and screaming. I couldn't blame them—I shot out of my seat and stood on the bench, looking around and debating standing on the table for a better vantage point, when the gunshot-like sounds of purple firecrackers got our attentions.

"Prefects," Dumbledore commanded, standing tall at the head table and sounding in that moment stronger than I had ever heard him. I suddenly understood why he had a reputation through the entire country. "Lead you Houses back to the dormitories immediately!" The sound picked right back up as prefects called over the rest of the panicking students to follow them.

"What is Dumbledore thinking?" I heard an older girl down the table from me worry. "Our common room is in the dungeons!" As this spread along the table, our house's volume rose.

"The troll won't be able to get into the common room," one boy said, trying to sound authoritative as we all pushed for the door.

"That doesn't help us if we meet the troll before we get to the common room!" someone else told him, exasperation trying to hide his own panic. At this point, I was practically trapped in the wave of Slytherins pushing to get out of the Great Hall.

"Skylar!" I heard someone shout over the crowd, and turned to see the twins pushing their way through the Slytherins, towards me. "You can't go down there!" George yelled just be heard when they finally reached me. "What if the troll gets you all?" Fred added.

Isaac and Terrance each put a hand on my shoulders. "We'll be okay," Isaac told the twins, the crowd still pushing and shoving around us. "We'll keep her safe." I was tempted to say that I would keep myself safe, but I was rather touched at everyone's concern.

"Are you sure," the twins asked as one, George looking at me, Fred looking distrustfully at the boys behind me.

"We'll be ok," I promised, voice raised to be heard. "Get to your common room and stay _safe_ ," I order them. They nodded and shot the Isaac and Terrance threatening looks, before pushing up the Grand Staircase, having a long way to go to reach their own common room.

"Come on," Isaac told us and we pushed after him, running the whole way down to the Slytherin common room, not stopping until we were safely inside. We didn't see even a wink of the troll, which didn't comfort me. Just because it had been in the dungeons when Quirrell had seen it, didn't mean it hadn't gone up a few levels and wasn't munching on kids up there. The prefects were trying to calm our terrified mass and promised that if we waited a few minutes, everything would be alright and the feast would be brought down here for us to finish.

"I'll be right back," I told the boys next to me, dashing off to my dormitory. The Marauders' Map was still in my school bag on my bed and I had to make sure everyone had gotten up to Gryffindor Tower safely. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good," I gasped out of breath, though in fact, I was acting out of the little bit of goodness of my heart. The map spread and I unfolded it quickly until Gryffindor Tower was revealed, but there were too many dots and names, all moving around, to tell if the names I was looking for were where they belonged. Instead, I scoured the path they would take to get to their common room. The halls were mostly emptied by now, most of the remaining dots belonging to teachers concentrated in the dungeons as they searched for the troll. Three dots caught my eye though, a few floors up and definitely not teachers. _Ronald Weasley_ and _Harry Potter_ were dancing around the girl's bathroom, while _Hermione Granger_ stayed very still in the corner. One slightly larger dot was in there too, unlabeled, but moving and seemed to be the center of Ron and Harry's circling. Whatever was going on was apparently attracting attention because several teachers' dots were moving quickly through the halls and towards the bathrooms. Just before _Minerva McGonagall_ , _Severus Snape,_ and _Quirinus Quirrell_ entered the bathroom, Harry's dot collided with the large, sluggishly moving one. They stayed like that for a moment, an odd double dot before Harry's dot moved away from the large one and of course at that very moment, the three teachers entered. After several minutes, the dot's belonging to the three first years exited the bathroom heading upwards toward their common room. The teachers exited as well, Quirrell going to his office, McGonagall going towards Dumbledore's dot one floor down, and Snape moving oddly down to the dungeons, to our common room. "Mischief managed," I whispered, running back down to the common room, coming to stand by Isaac, Terrance, Justin and Joshua just as Snape entered and everyone began shouting questions at him.

"Where'd you go?" Terrance hissed in my ear.

"Had to get something," I whispered back, as Snape silenced us all with a sharp set down.

"The troll has been taken care of, you may all stop your fussing. House elves will be sending food in momentarily. I suggest, you all stay in here and calm yourselves for tonight."

After the food was eaten and gone, delicious as always, I noticed most of the others pulling out parchment and quills. "What are you doing?" I asked Isaac and his friends.

"Writing to my parents," Terrance said as if it was obvious. "They'll be worried if they hear about this from someone else."

"And my dad's on the Board," Millet added. "He'll want to bring this up in a meeting to make sure this doesn't happen ever again." The others nodded. "Do you want some parchment?" he added, offering me an extra sheet. "To write to your parents?"

Though touched that he offered me paper to write to my muggle parents, I answered "No," with a small smirk. "They'd just be sad the troll didn't eat me." They gave me weird looks at that. "But thanks. I'll see you all in the morning, yeah?" They nodded and offered 'good nights' my way and I disappeared into my room, beating Tatiana and Lucille for once. I collapsed into bed, glad the day was over. It had been a good one, with Hogsmeade and meeting actually decent Slytherins, but it had been emotionally exhausting and I welcomed sleep as it dripped into my eyes.


	10. Quidditch

As the months had passed, my detentions with Snape had continued, but after a few weeks of that horrendous chair, they had changed as well. He now usually had me bottling the slimiest potion ingredients or drying the foulest smelling herbs he could find, some from the greenhouses, some ordered special. It was something to do, but every once in a while, I still found myself thinking longingly of that chair. Snape had changed patterns too; he used to just sit silently, ignoring me until ordering me to leave, but now, he would often talk at me, usually lecturing on the subjects of the virtue of well-behaved friends or the evils of being nosy. I usually did my best to tune him out, but every once in a while, I just couldn't help adding a quip here or there. It would piss him off and he would heap on the insults for a while, but he seemed to have trouble actually punishing me for talking back. As head of Slytherin House, he wanted us to win the House Cup at the end of the year, a competition between the houses based on the points McGonagall had mentioned at the start of term. Because of this, he rarely took points from Slytherins, even me. He also hated assigning me detentions because it meant more time he had to spend on me. So I grew used to his sneers and rudeness, quickly learning just to ignore them when they came. He grew even more irritable after Halloween, having somehow injured his leg when looking for that troll. He limped around grumpy and looking for people to snap at.

I had also started spending more time around the Slytherin common room when the twins weren't around which, as the first Quidditch game of the season came closer, became more and more often due to their captain calling a flurry of last minute practices. Isaac, Terence, Joshua and Justin turned out to be surprisingly normal guys and we spent a lot of evenings studying together near the common room fire. "So," Terrence said one night as we switched from Transfiguration to Potions. "You're cheering for Slytherin on Saturday, right? Or will you be rooting for your friends?"

"What?" I asked without looking up. I was digging through my bag looking for a blank and unrumpled piece of parchment to write my essay on.

"Quidditch!" he stressed as if it should be my top priority. "I'm Seeker. You'll be wearing green for the match, right?" The others, aside from Justin who had dozed off two assignments ago, were looking at me expectantly. The first match of the season was Slytherin versus Gryffindor, the grand rivalry and even Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws often dawned red or green. Fred and George were beaters for Gryffindor and Lee had signed up to commentate matches this year.

"I'll cheer for Fred and George and root for Slytherin, deal?" I checked them. They shrugged as if this was the best they could hope for and I chuckled. "I'll be in green," I promised and they looked decidedly cheerful, especially Terence who had been nervous for this game. This was his first year on the team and wasn't in as good of standing with Marcus Flint, team captain, as the rest of the team was.

"You'll do great, Terence," I told him and he shrugged, looking away. When Fred, George and Lee had told me about Slytherins on the train, I had assumed they were all arrogant and self-centered, concerned only about being the best. That was true to an extent—we did work to be the best, even when we weren't born there—but there, on the point of our self-centeredness, there was something off. We cared about taking care of ourselves, but that extended to those we were close to. A week ago, a fifth year girl hexed a seventh year Ravenclaw because he had cheated on her best friend. And when some older students started throwing insult at me, literally wads of paper, scribbled with insults and launched into my hair, all four of my new friends stood to defend me, taking those scraps of paper and charming them to shoot right back at the ones who threw them, splaying across their eyes and gluing themselves across their vision. It could have easily turned into an all-out battle, but as Justin explained in my ear, people were careful about joining sides, because once they did, they didn't switch.

The momentous day arrived. Flint called a practice at seven AM so Terence wasn't there to wish luck. Instead, I peeled off from the others once we reached the Great Hall, heading toward the Gryffindor table, plopping down across from Fred and George. They looked at the scarf Justin's sister had lent me, she had four, before looking at my face. "Those are traitor colors," Fred said with a serious face. I stuck my tongue out at him.

"I'm attempting not to be killed by my house mates. Besides, Terence is playing. But don't worry, I'll cheer for you two."

George nodded around some bacon. "You had better," he told me sternly and I grinned.

"So, how's Harry doing?" Harry Potter had somehow gotten himself as the new Gryffindor seeker and, if reports were to be believed, he was a spectacular flyer. Fred and George said Wood had been trying to keep Harry's appointment and abilities a secret, but word had leaked into Slytherin common room last week. The poor kid, famous apparently for defeating a dark wizard as an infant, looked absolutely terrified down the table from us. Ron, Hermione, and a couple other kids I couldn't name, were trying to get him to eat, but he wasn't having it.

"He'll be fine," Fred promised. "This kid is amazing! Natural flyer, that one." I had heard the same all over the school, though I wasn't sure where it had spread from.

"Let's hope so," I said cautiously though. "Right now, it looks like he's about to barf."

"So did these two before their first game," Lee said.

"Did not!" Fred and George both protested loudly. "We were poised," Fred said.

"Confident," George added smoothly.

"Shaky in the knees." Lee ducked out of reach of George's swing and I laughed at them, building myself a breakfast sandwich with the food on the table.

"French!" I turned to where fifth year Oliver Wood behind me, looking like he was about to explode.

"Wood!" I said imitating him. Fred, George and Lee snickered from the other side of the table, but Wood ignored them.

"What are you doing to my players?" he demanded, pointing stiffly at them. I had seen Oliver Wood around the halls and in the Gryffindor common room. He had always seemed to be a normal guy; hardworking, sure, but not maniacal. The look in his eyes at this moment though, bordered on dangerous. I probably shouldn't have, I continued to poke at the cranky lion.

"Well, see there's this Confundus Charm Flickwit mentioned a couple weeks ago and I figured this would be a good time to try it out. They're my test subjects." Fred and George both crossed their eyes and started teetering in their seats.

"Oh, Wood," George said in a slurred, drunk sounding voice. "We'll be fiiine! But it might be best if you stop dancing now."

"Otherwise, we'll have to waltz too, and tha' would jus' be embarrassing for alllll of usssss," Fred added. Wood turned almost purple in that moment.

"French, back to your own table," he ordered loudly, catching the attention of others down the row a bit. I snickered, taking my sandwich with me.

"Good luck, Gryffindor," I laughed over my shoulder at them. I heard Wood telling the boys that I was not longer allowed at their table on game days.

"Oliver, we were only joking," Fred said.

"Seriously, Oliver, calm down." I joined my own table again, sitting myself on the other side of Justin's sister, Juliana and putting my sandwich on a proper plate while I poured myself some juice.

"Psyching out the Gryffindor team?" Isaac asked me in an approving tone.

"Just their captain," I answered. "Wood's a bit…intense, don't you think?"

Isaac shrugged and Joshua said, "It's Quidditch," like that explained everything. Not too long later, and I was being dragged down to the Quidditch pitch. Sports had never been my thing and I doubted it ever would be, but even I had to admit that this Quidditch pitch was jaw-droppingly awesome. The pitch was twice as long and twice as wide as an (American) football field. The three hoops at each end of the field where at least fifty feet tall, and stood there stoically as if they were lords of the world. We were in our seats by ten thirty-five because the boys insisted that we get "worthwhile" seats this time. We had to climb one hundred and twenty six rickety stairs to reach these worthwhile seats. All the stands were raised about sixty feet in the air because in this sport, no one wanted floor seats.

The boys quickly started debating game stats and broomsticks and I-don't-even-know-what-else. I leaned over, into their conversation to ask, "How long 'til the game starts?" We had already been here almost ten minutes and I was bored out of my mind.

"About fifteen minutes," Isaac answered me before falling right back into their conversation. I rolled my eyes. _Boys!_ Wondering why we had had to get here so early, I pulled a novel out of my bag to wait—it wasn't as if I could contribute to a Quidditch discussion anyway. I was just starting to really get into the story when the book disappeared from my hands.

"Hey!"

"Who brings a book to a Quidditch match?" Joshua asked while Isaac held my book out of reach.

"Someone who doesn't want to sit here bored for another fifteen minutes," I said with exasperation. "Give me back my book!" I could see in his face that Isaac was going to refuse so without waiting for his response, I shot a light stinging hex at his wrist and a summoning charm at my book as it started to fall from his grip.

"Hey!" This time it was him who objected.

"Hey yourself. You stole my book. Fairs fair."

"Fair would be stealing it back. A stinging hex is overdoing it." He was still rubbing his wrist even though I knew it hadn't been that bad.

"The hex was so you would know not to do that again. If you want me to put my book away, tell me and I will. But only if you all aren't going to talk about completely boring things." He scowled at me while Joshua and Justin looked on.

"Fine, put your book away," he said grudgingly. I acquiesced without hesitation and turned back to them, waiting for someone to say something.

"How could you possibly think Quidditch is boring?" Justin asked, breaking the short silence. "I mean, you've seen it before, right?"

"Not really. I know the basics because someone at me last school explained it too me, but there are too many regulations in America for most anyone to play the game for real." They all stared at me in shock and I suppose Isaac had forgiven me because he was the first to speak.

"You've really never seen a game before?" I shook my head. Without preamble or invitation, they launched into explanations of the game, going into more depth than had ever been explained to me. I nodded trying, and hopelessly failing, to absorb everything they said.

Quite suddenly, they were interrupted as Lee's amplified voice called across the pitch, "Here come our two teams, Gryffindor and Slytherin!" The entire audience silenced as, sure enough, fourteen people walked across the field, coming from opposite sides, towards Madam Hooch, who stood in the center next to a large wooden chest. Slytherin team wore dark, emerald green robes, all walking straight and proud. Gryffindor team wore their ruby red, just as proud, except for maybe Harry who stood behind the twins and looked a little uncertain of how he had gotten on that pitch. Both teams gathered around Madam Hooch and she spoke to them for just a moment before they all mounted their brooms. She blew her whistle and without further ado, the teams lifted off. Madam Hooch released the bludgers and snitch from the chest and tossed the Quaffle into the air, like a tip off. A Gryffindor blur immediately swooped in and grabbed it dodging Slytherins as she did so. Lee's voice rang out, saying, "And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor—what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too—"

I laughed along with a most of the rest of the crowd while McGonagall called angrily, "JORDAN!" by way of reprimand.

"Sorry, Professor," he said, not sounding sorry at all. "And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve, back to Johnson and—no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle." The green crowd around me who had been yelling insults at the Gryffindors and encouragements to the Slytherins, broke into cheers as a large green blur intercepted the Quaffle. "Slytherin Captian Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes, Flint flying like an eagle up there—he's going to sc- no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle." I don't know if it was Lee's commentary or the energized crowd around me, but I booed along with them at this development. "That's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and—OUCH—that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a bludgers—Quaffle taken by the Slytherins—that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger—sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which—nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes—sh's really flying—dodges a speeding Bludger—the goal posts are ahead—come on, now, Angelina—Keeper Bletchley dives—misses—GRYFFINDORS SCORE!" While the red crowd across from us, and a good chunk of the yellow and blue crowds too, we all broke into boos, yelling abuse at Angelina, Bletchley and Gryffindors as a whole.

"Slytherin in possession, Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the—wait a moment—was that the Snitch?" I broke off cheering with the rest of them, as a rumbling murmur spread across the audience. Both seekers, Terence and Potter were diving at a glint of gold, practically even with one another. It seemed the whole pitch had frozen, even the other players though I knew they were not supposed to, to watch the seekers, only the two of them and the two bludgers still moving in the air. Everyone could see that Potter was pulling ahead; he had the better broom, a new Nimbus Two Thousand. I might not know anything about brooms, but everyone talked about the broom like it was a Ferrari. But then Flint blocked Potter, causing the kid's broom to spin off course as he narrowly avoided a collision. We cheered though that move earned a foul for us, giving Gryffindors a free shot. But that glint of gold was lost to both Terence and Potter. Lee, along with the booing, howling Gryffindors, wasn't happy about Flints move.

"So—" he began angrily. "After that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating—"

"Jordan!"

"I mean, after that open and revolting foul—"

" _Jordan, I'm warning you—"_

"All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinnet, who puts it away, not trouble, and we continue to play, Gryffindor still in possession." I laughed at Lee's frustration, sure that it wasn't really that bad. The score was twenty to zero to Gryffindor and I, along with the rest of the Slytherins, was yelling at our team to start scoring some points. We had stolen back the Quaffle and Lee was saying, "Slytherin in possession—Flint with the Quaffle—passes Spinnet—passes Bell—hit in the face by a bludgers, hope it broke his nose—only joking Professor." I looked up to see Fred and George high five one another as they passed, Fred looking quite smug and I couldn't help but laugh which earned me the stink eye from those around me. "Slytherin score—oh no…." Those who had been glaring at me stopped as we all cheered. All of a sudden, the Gryffindors were pointing at something high above the game. The rest of us looked up to see Harry drifting higher and higher on a broom he couldn't seem to control.

Most of the Slytherins around me started to jeer, laughing that Potter had lost control of his broom, but that didn't seem right to me. Anyone who had seen him fly said that he was great, one of the best they had ever seen. There was no way he just suddenly wouldn't be able to control one of the world's best broomsticks. The broom which was already jerking and bucking started doing barrel rolls, while Harry held on for dear life. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that the broom was trying to kill him. But it couldn't have, brooms can't make decisions like 'let's kill my rider,' they didn't have minds to think with. I wondered if Flint or one of the other Slytherin players had bewitched the broom somehow, but they looked as bewildered as everyone else. The broom was doing a series of weird twists while the entire crowd stood with baited breath. Even most of the Slytherins looked terrified for Harry—they might not all love Gryffindors or Potter, but no one wanted to see a kid die. The twins had both flown up to aide Harry, trying to pull him from his broom to one of theirs, but every time they got too close, the broom would jerk aggressively at them, making them jump back before it would drift higher. The twins finally had to resort simply to circling under the broom to catch Harry when he fell. I began praying under my breath, but those around me didn't seem to notice, all attention pinned on Harry.

And then without warning, the broom stopped, and Harry who for the last minute or so had been hanging onto it like a sloth, climbed back on looking justifiably shaken and the crowd let out a collective breath. That breath was taken right back though as Harry dived sharply and I wondered if the broom had come up with a new tactic to kill Harry. He dove right past the twins who sped after him still pointed almost straight down at the ground. He put a hand to his mouth and it looked like he was about to vomit. I wouldn't have blamed him if he did, but when he collapsed to the ground and coughed into his hand, it wasn't puke that came out, but that elusive glint of gold. He stood shakily, waving it over his head and yelling, "I've got the Snitch!" and with that, the game was over, though no one seemed to have been playing for the last ten minutes. The score was one hundred and seventy to sixty—though none of us remembered when Slytherin had made those points—and it wasn't looking like the common room would be a fun place to be tonight.

I slipped past the grumpy Slytherins and crossed over to the Gryffindor side. Lee was still gleefully singing the final score into the microphone and surprisingly enough, McGonagall didn't seem in any hurry to stop him. I had to skirt around a very upset Slytherin team as they stomped by, Flint still yelling angrily, "He didn't _catch_ it, he nearly _swallowed_ it!" No one else seemed to care though. The game was over and I had to push through Gryffindors to reach the team. Wood eyed me suspiciously as I approached.

"Congrats, guys!" I told the still laughing and dancing team. Harry looked both very happy and very confused. "You okay?" I asked him and he nodded shakily. Fred and George swooped in making me dance with them.

"How was _that?_ " George asked with a huge grin.

"I bet your Slytherin buddies aren't too happy, are they?" Fred added with a smirk.

"Not at all," I told them cheerfully.

Wood stepped up then, eying me carefully. "Come on, you two, back to the locker room," he ordered.

"Lighten up, Oliver," Fred crowed, "We won!" There was a definitely look of triumph in Wood's eyes, but he didn't respond, just turned to gather the girls of the team. "C'mon, wait for us in the common room?" I nodded without thinking about it. "Good, we'll grab some stuff and be there in a bit." They hurried off after Wood and the girls then. I made my way up to Gryffindor common room. When I stepped into the common room, everyone was still loud and cheering. It quieted a little when I came in, though.

"Mind if I crash your party, then?" I asked the room that was staring at me. If I hadn't been such a usual fixture in here before, I'm sure they would have kicked me out right then, but instead, most of them laughed. Lee sidled up to me then, a huge smile on his face.

"What? You don't want to be in your own territory right now?"

"Nope. I'm pretty sure the rest of them would eat me alive right now." Not that going to party with the Gryffindors would help me on that front. I will say this though:

Gryffindor know how to throw a good party.


	11. Snow Fight

After the epic defeat by Gryffindor, Slytherins were decidedly grumpy. Terence wouldn't speak to me for a three days and he wasn't the only one willing to vent his anger out on me when there were no Gryffindors around to mock. In self-preservation, I spent more time up in Gryffindor's common room where the mood was brighter and people didn't constantly shoot barbed insults my way. They teased me for being a snake, sure, but most of them would say that I wasn't _really_ a snake and that the Hat made a mistake.

But as it will, time passed and soon, people forgot all about that game. The Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw game came near the end of November and Wood ordered his team to attend so that they could all observe Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw's playing styles for this year's teams. The twins dragged me along too, claiming that I hadn't been exposed enough to the wonderful world of Quidditch. Wood glared at me suspiciously as I stood with the rest of the team, but didn't say anything. The girls on the team, Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet were all perfectly nice and welcoming and didn't mind including me in the team's banter. Lee's commentary, though rather less biased this game, was still engaging and I ended up enjoying myself again.

About a week into December, the skies dropped the biggest snowfall I had ever seen. It drove everyone crazy and you chanced finding yourself in the midst of a snowball fight by just stepping outside, oftentimes before that too if the twins were involved. Snowmen and defensive snow forts dotted the grounds, but of course, this was Hogwarts and everything was _magic._ Spells were cast on completed snowmen making them dance and spin through the white landscape. They often wore house scarves left by students and if a Slytherin snowman and a Gryffindor snowman got too close to one another, there was bound to be a fight, only ended when the spell was removed, a Hufflepuff snowman broke the fight up, or the two snowmen had pulverized one another, something that was both entertaining and slightly morbid to watch. The forts were way better than those found on the playground in a muggle neighborhood. These ones were often multi-tiered and reinforced to withstand attack. Those built by older students had holes along the walls, specifically for magically launching snowballs.

I found a book in the library about some of this stuff, titled _The Magic of a Snow Day_. We never were granted a snow day, but the book did contain some rather entertaining spells. The twins snagged it from my bag one night at dinner. As they read through it, their mischievous grins grew and, just as I knew they would, they copied several of the spells onto a separate scrap of parchment. I was surprised though when they wouldn't let me see which spells they took and I grew very suspicious of when and who they would try out on.

I found out the very next day. I was walking back from Herbology with Terence, Isaac, Joshua and Justin, jealous their warmer cloaks—Isaac and Justin's were even fur-lined—as we trudged through the six of snow. Justin and Terence were arguing about whose fault it was that they had been doused in goo from one of the plants in the green house, and not even the one we were using today, when Joshua grunted in surprise, the evidence of a snowball splattered across his chest. We all looked around for the thrower, but we didn't have to look far. "Hello there," Fred and George were grinning at us over the top of a rudimentary fort which was little more than a large mound of snow. Lee's dreadlocks could be seen bobbing next to them, but we couldn't see his face and whatever he was doing was blocked by the fort.

"What are you idiots doing?" Justin demanded. While all the boys were my friends, they didn't much get along. I took refuge behind the three of the Slytherin boys, all of whom were taller than me, keeping my head poked out so I could see what was going on.

"I would think that's rather obvious," Fred said conversationally to George and Lee.

"And they call _us_ idiots," George sounded like he was pouting.

"Aren't you all supposed to be in Charms right now?" I demanded. There was no way they could have made it all the way down from the Charms class near the top of one of the towers out here with time to build their little fort and be waiting for us in the time it took for class to get out and us to get halfway to the castle.

"Flickwit got a cold and keeps falling over when he sneezes so he cancelled class this morning," George said smugly and I stuck my tongue out at him. We didn't even see it when Fred, with scary accuracy threw another snowball, this time hitting Terence on the side of his head. I watched a clump of snow slide down his neck and into his cloak collar as he hollered.

"C'mon, ssssnakes," Fred taunted. "Are you just going to sssslither away from a good fight?" Now, despite what you may have been told, Slytherins don't usually fight. However, we will make exceptions if we 1) know we can win or 2) have the opportunity to smash some Gryffindors. In this case, we had both and didn't even hesitate.

"You're on!" Isaac and Joshua quickly erected a small mound similar to the Gryffindors' while Justin, Terence and I started making a small pile of snowballs. As soon as the wall was up, we all started throwing our ammunition at the fort opposite ours. Within seconds, I realized what Lee had been hiding back there: he had built up a stockpile of ammunition and the twins were firing with magic, the impacts hard and some were sure to leave welts. We fought back aggressively, but we were already behind and it became quickly obvious that I have terrible aim. Knowing I needed to do something helpful for my team, I looked around and my gaze landed on someone's leftover snow fort a couple hundred yards away. And then, I had a wonderfully brilliant idea. Bracing my back against our defensive mound of snow, I pulled out my wand and concentrated. The twins might have pulled their snowball-throwing spell from that book, but I had studied it longer than they had and had learned a few spells of my own. I concentrated on the image in my head with my eyes closed. "Skylar, what are you doing?" Isaac yelled at me. "We need your help up here!" I ignored him as I felt something rise out of the snow in front of me, but as it was behind my team, they didn't notice it. I knew the Gryffindors noticed it though because their snowballs suddenly stopped.

"What are they doing?" Justin asked, suspecting some sort of trick; it was the best known pranking trio in the school. I finally opened my eyes and grinned at my success. In front of me stood a fifteen foot tall column of snow. It was hollow I knew, but it didn't look like it. There were no windows or slits to hint at the interior layout. The top was checkered as castles often were, like the bottom row of Jack-o-lantern teeth.

"C'mon," I ordered and they finally looked at me as I stood then turned to look behind them at what I was running towards.

"What it the world is that?" Joshua asked. I didn't answer besides ordering them to follow me. We ran behind it to where I knew an opening stood. A spiral stair case began only a few steps in and wound all the way up the column leading us right up to the top of my castle. As we ran up the stair, a loud _THUMP_ on one side of the column followed by another on the same side. We exited onto the roof as the third one shook the column.

"What are those idiots doing to my tower?" I growled. Going right over the battlements, I looked through the space to see the others far below us about thirty feet away. Fred and Lee stood pointing at a snowball that floated in the air and began to grow in size until it was the size of a large beach ball. George pointed his own wand at it and launched it at my tower and the same _THUMP_ shook the fort again. I leaned through the space looking straight down the tower to check for any damage they might have been doing. The fort was supposed to be magically reinforced against attack, but I wanted to be sure the spell was working the way it should.

"Get down!" Joshua was closest to me and grabbed the back of my cloak, pulling me flat to the roof. Before I had a chance to ask what he thought he was doing, another beach ball sized cannon ball of snow exploded right where I had been hanging over the edge.

"Thanks," I told Joshua before scrambling up and carefully peeking over the edge again. "Help me, would you?" I asked the boys behind me. They lined up next to me, each looking through their own gap.

"What's your plan?" Isaac asked and I knew all of them looking at me. My wand was still clutched in in my hand and I pointed it through the gap at the snow behind the Gryffindors.

"Point your wand at the ground behind them and then draw a line towards them. The spell is 'Fluctui nix'. Got it?" They all nodded and I heard a couple of them whisper the spell to themselves a few times. "Ready? On three. One…two…three!" Five spells were cast and the wave of snow that lifted, then buried the Gryffindors, was huge. Their little mound of a fort was decimated and the Slytherins began whooping in victory as we danced and jumped around the roof. When I saw their three heads pop out of the lump of snow, I laughed and ran back down the stairs the others following me and we stood laughing at the three Gryffindors while they slowly unburied themselves.

"Aren't you going to help us?" Lee asked, shaking snow out of his dreads and still buried in snow up to his waist.

"Nope," I said calmly as Fred finally pulled himself out, collapsing on the ground.

"That was a low trick," he said looking at me upside down and flicking some easily dodged snow my way.

"That wasn't a trick," Isaac mocked, "that was a well-executed spell and good strategy."

"Only a Slytherin would call hiding 'strategy'," George said as he collapsed next to his brother.

"I'm sure a few Ravenclaws would too," Justin said calmly with a mocking glint in his eye.

"Besides, you say that like having strategy is a bad thing," I said.

"No, we're saying _hiding_ as a strategy is a bad thing," Lee said, finally rolling out of the snow himself. "Your strategy should be an upfront attack, not ducking for cover."

"Our strategy should be whatever puts us out on top. Literally in this case," Terence sneered. "What's the point of a loud obnoxious attack if you don't win?"

Before the boys could get into a real fight, I interrupted. "Enough, guys. The battle is over. And Slytherins won… this time at least," I added the last bit to appease the Gryffindors. Lee flicked some more snow at me, but didn't seem too upset.

"Come on, you two," George said pulling himself to his feet. "I'm soaked and cold. Let's go get lunch."

"Wait a second," his twin said, pulling George and Lee down behind the slope of snow created by my wave. "You lot had better get down too if you don't want to be blamed for this," he added to us. I glanced around as I ran to where they lay on the snow, the other Slytherins reluctantly following me.

"What are you doing?" I hissed. The only person I had seen around besides us was Quirrell coming out of the Forbidden Forrest. I wondered what the quivering Quirrell could have been doing in the forest. The man was afraid of his own shadow and the forest was full of much creepier shadows, something I unfortunately knew seeing as the twins, Lee and I had snuck in on multiple occasions. He reached up, unconsciously patting his ever-present turban.

"Watch this," George grinned, knowing exactly what his brother was thinking, as usual. They both scooped a couple snow balls together before tapping each one with their wands and whispering, "Interum metatur." It was as if these four little snowballs had been magnetized as they shot towards Quirrell only to bang into his turban. The Defense professor stumbled slightly as they hit, but instead of crumbling like snowballs usually did, they bounced off the turban, completely unaffected, before going right back. The snowballs quickly fell into a rhythm working in pairs as they followed Quirrell as he tried to walk away. He batted at them with his hand, but they didn't seem to notice so he stomped into the school scowling.

All eight of us students were laughing, rolling around and clutching our sides, "That was good, Weasleys," Justin said still laughing and clapping a choking Terence on the back. "Even I've got to admit." The others nodded in agreement as they kept laughing at Quirrell's rather murderous expression.

"I don't remember that one," I said as we all stood to trudge in.

"Page one hundred and fifty four," Fred said slinging his arm over my shoulders. I would have to go back through that book and see what else I missed. When we walked into the Great Hall, sighing a little at the warmth from the continuously roaring fire, we instantly saw Quirrell talking to Professor McGonagall and Professor Flickwit. Flickwit seemed to be trying to smother a smile while he raised his wand and the snowballs fell to the ground, but McGonagall noticed as we all walked in and her lips became a very small line. Isaac, Justin, Terence and Justin all peeled off towards Slytherin table quickly, Isaac muttering a good luck under his breath while we carefully walked to Gryffindor table. As we ate I noticed McGonagall descend from the teachers' table and slowly make her way down Gryffindor table with a piece of parchment, stopping to ask every student something and occasionally making a note of their answer on her parchment. The twins and Lee began debating which snow spell to use for their next prank and as I listened, I forgot about McGonagall until she spoke.

"Will you be staying for Winter Holidays, Mr. Jordan?" she asked.

"No, ma'am," Lee answered. "Going home for mum's cooking. You won't miss me _too_ much, will you?" he asked with an impish grin.

Her lips momentarily tightened into a line before she said, "I believe we will make do, Mr. Jordan. And you two, Mr.'s Weasley?" she asked the twins. "Will you be returning home as well?"

"Not this year, Professor," George smiled up at her. "Mum and dad and Ginny are going to visit Charlie in Romania so you'll have all of us staying this year." She made a note of this on her parchment before looking at them sternly.

"I trust you will both behave appropriately," he commanded them.

"Of course, Professor," Fred said innocently. "Why would you think otherwise?"

"Because Professor Quirrell has just informed me that you bewitched snowballs to attack him." I silently wondered to myself how she knew it was the twins, but this woman was scary enough that I never questioned her authority.

"Us, Professor?" George asked. "Is he sure?"

"Yes, if he was attacked by snowballs, he could have been confused," Fred added hopefully.

"I don't believe so. You will both have detention with him next week and twenty points from each of you." She turned to me then and I had to work very hard to appear innocent even though I knew I hadn't done anything. "And you, Miss French. If I hear you had anything to do with it, you will join them in detention."

"She didn't do anything, Professor," both twins interjected. She nodded.

"Very well. Miss French, you will give your decision for the holidays to Professor Snape." She pointed to where Snape was making his way down the Slytherin table and I saw that Professor Sprout was doing the same for Hufflepuff table. I suspect that Flickwit was making his way down Ravenclaw table as well, but he was too short to see.

"Yes, ma'am, thank you," I said and McGonagall nodded before turning to a fourth year I didn't know. "I guess I'll see you guys later," I said standing. "I've got to go talk to Professor Snape." Perhaps it was selfish, but as I made my way across the hall, I was glad the twins were staying. There was no way I was going to go back to Ottery St. Catchpoles for Christmas, but I hadn't been looking forward to being alone for the holidays either. "Professor," I said as I approached Snape.

"What do you want?" he demanded.

"Um, Professor McGonagall said I had to tell you whether or not I'm staying for the break and I am."

"Wonderful," he sneered. "I'm overjoyed." A few nearby first years snickered, a blond boy named Draco Malfoy and his two henchmen-like friends Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, though I had never been able to tell which was which. Malfoy was one of the Slytherin that seemed especially offended by my heritage, but he had learned his lesson about mocking me for it around my friends, ages ago. I shrugged, my task completed and turned to go find Isaac and Terence for the rest of the lunch period. "Do not forget your detention tomorrow evening, Miss French."

"I know," I said not bothering to turn back. Detentions continued, worse than before simply because the temperature of the entire castle had dropped dramatically over the past few weeks. All the corridors and classrooms were drafty, even though most classrooms had some sort of fireplace, but the dungeons were downright freezing. At least in Potions class we had the fire under our cauldrons to warm us, but though his office had a fire place, he kept it burning low during my detentions so that its warmth didn't extend past his desk. My teeth chattered and my hands shook and whenever I dropped a jar, I got scolded. I had taken to visiting the kitchens after those detentions because the fires there were always burning and the house elves always brought me tea that warmed me to the core.

Shivering just at the thought of detention, I sat with down with my friends, pouring myself a mug of hot chocolate, listening to them all talk until the bell rang for our next class.


	12. Christmas

A/N: Okay, no one freak out, I'm not trying to preach or convert or anything. At the end of this chapter, there is a little bit about religion, more than there has been in past chapters. Raised in a religious family and always hoping for my Hogwarts letter, I've naturally always wondered about Muggleborns who came from any kind of religious families; it's almost statistically impossible that they aren't there, don't you think?

"Christmas is coming, Christmas is coming!" I swear even the suits of armor were whispering the words all over the school. The days until the Hogwarts Express would take the vast majority of the students back to London were counted down eagerly by most everyone. Those who weren't going home simply counted down the days 'til Christmas. I didn't have a countdown going myself. While I looked forward to spending the holidays with my friends, I wasn't expecting any presents for myself. I didn't mind, but I suppose it did take something away from the excitement.

The Saturday before Christmas, the castle nearly emptied itself of students and staff, all gone home to enjoy the holidays with their families. Only a hundred or so of us still roamed the halls, teachers and staff included. The twins and I were ecstatic. With so few people to get in our way, the castle was our playground. We spent the days before Christmas exploring, looking new secrets, visiting the ever-helpful elves in the kitchens and even sneaking into Hogsmeade a couple times. I worried the Hogsmeade shop owners would report us, but they never did.

Percy considered himself too busy to hang out with us, as the only male Prefect remaining at Hogwarts for the holidays, he said he had duties to see to in addition to studying for his OWLs. Ron didn't mind us hanging out with him and Harry a few times though. Harry Potter had remained at Hogwarts; rumor was the muggles he lived with, his aunt and uncle, hated him. Whether or not this was true or exaggerated, I didn't know, but Harry didn't seem any parts upset to stay at school for the holidays. Unlike Percy and the twins, Ron and Harry were content to spend the days lazing around and hanging out in front of the common room fire all day long. It wasn't a bad life.

With less people patrolling the corridors after curfew and with rules more lax in general, I often stayed late in the Gryffindor common room, returning home several hours after I should have three times before Christmas Eve. Percy was too busy up in his room or in the library studying to notice, thank goodness. Late Christmas Eve, Ron and Harry were playing chess. Ron was pretty good, but Harry was a novice and was easily confused when his playing pieces would shout instruction at him. The twins sat on either side of the board attempting to help Harry, at least doing better than the pieces were, and I sat on the couch watching. I was curled up in an afghan I had stolen from one of the twins. It was the warmest, coziest thing I had ever used and I wrapped myself in it every evening, no one seeming to mind that it wasn't mine. When Harry (and the twins) lost for the third time that evening, they put away the chess board and complaining pieces and pulled out a game of Exploding Snap.

"Do you want to play too?" Ron asked me as he dealt the cards out.

"No thanks, I'll just watch." It was getting late and I was tired, my eye lids starting to stick closed every few blinks. Their game was loud, their cards randomly exploding followed by loud howls from the players, but it wasn't enough to keep me alert and I was curled up, my head propped on a couple couch pillows and my eyes closed when Percy stormed down.

"What are you doing?" he demanded the boys who looked up at him in surprise.

"I would think that's quite obvious, Perce," Fred said. "Don't you think, George?"

"Quite obvious indeed, Fred," his brother agreed in an equally pompous tone. Their playacting only ticked Percy off more though of course.

"I can hear you all the way up in my room!" Percy said. His room was only two levels up the stairs and I was sure he had his door wide open and was just waiting for any noise to come through and give him an excuse to boss his brothers around. Silently, I encouraged Percy to stick his nose somewhere else and to stop shouting as it was giving me a headache. I must not have been as silent as I thought I was though, because Percy noticed me then and his face turned an even darker shade of red, a bad clash with his ginger hair. "What is she doing here?"

"What do you care, Percy?" I growled, upset that he wasn't letting me enjoy my comfortable position and the warm fire.

"It is after midnight! Curfew was more than two hours ago!"

"Percy, it's Christmas. Cut us some slack," Fred complained. "It's not like she's doing anything bad. She's sitting on the couch for crying out loud." Ron and Harry were perfectly still as they watched the argument.

"Ten points from Slytherin," Percy clipped. "Now get out of here, Skylar, and go back to where you belong."

"Hey!" I said, popping up and suddenly much more awake. "What are you taking points for?"

"For breaking curfew. Now get out before I take more points!" Keeping eye contact with him, I slumped back against the arm of the couch, settled the blanket over myself again and crossed my arms as I watched the prefect slowly turn purple. I didn't expect his next move though. He stomped forward and grabbed my arm, yanking me to my feet. My legs got tangled in the blanket and I stumbled as he started dragging me towards the Fat Lady's portrait.

"Hey, let go of her!" Fred and George objected as one, jumping up from where they stood and pulling me away from Percy's grasp. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" George demanded taking a step towards Percy with clenched hands.

"I have a duty to ensure the safety of all students here at Hogwarts."

"How the hell is her being here affecting the safety of _anyone?_ " Fred growled.

Percy didn't appear to have a satisfactory retort to that because he only stiffly said, "Skylar had sixty seconds to get out of this common room before I go get Professors McGonagall and Snape. And be glad I don't report the fact that she was here in the first place!" I had to hold both twins back as they moved forward with clenched fists again.

"Forget about it," I sighed at them. "I'll go. I don't feel like fighting with him right now." They looked like they were going to argue with me so I walked to the door, talking over my shoulder as I went. "I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yeah," George said, still sounding upset and a little defeated. "First thing, promise?"

"Sure. What else am I gonna do tomorrow?"

"We're holding you to that," Fred told me. I made it down to my own common room without being caught, though there was a close call when Mrs. Norris caught my scent and I found myself incredibly grateful that human legs are longer and faster than cat legs. It was close to one o'clock when I stepped into my common room and I was exhausted and cold. I had accidently left my shoes and socks by the couch upstairs and rather than go back and risk the wrath of Percy, I made my way barefoot. Winter may be fun outside with all the snow, but apparently wizards never learned to insulate because the castle was still freezing. The common room was silent and empty so I walked to the couch in front of the fire and laid down, curling up into a small ball and waiting for the fire to warm my feet before I went to my chilly room. I fell asleep before sufficiently warmed.

I was woken up by loud banging and yelling and it took me several groggy moments to realize that the noise was coming from the other side of the common room door and that the yelling was actual words. "French!" one of the older kids had come up from his room to bark. "Go take care of your friends before I do." Not wanting my friends to come to harm, I stood and stumbled to the entrance. The twins were still yelling my name and ordering me to answer the door when I pulled it open.

"Oh, there you are!" Fred grinned brightly at me.

"What are you two doing?" I grumbled.

"You promised first thing in the morning and it's already eight thirteen!" George said, thoroughly peeved. He had his hands on his hips like a woman. Or like Percy if you thought about it. I wondered vaguely what that meant before turning back to the subject at hand.

"I haven't broken that promise," I defended. "I was still asleep when you two came making your noise."

"Really? But it's Christmas! How can you still be asleep on Christmas?"

"It's practically a sin to sleep in on Christmas!" To be honest, in my sleep-drunk state, I had actually forgotten it was Christmas until they mentioned it.

"It is not either a sin," I objected, ignoring my absentmindedness. "Besides, like you said, it's only eight thirteen. That's hardly sleeping in, especially for me." That wasn't a lie either; I had a bad habit of sleeping in late, really late, on weekends.

"But it's Christmas!" George said. "There's no sleeping in on Christmas!"

"Besides, we were waiting for you to open presents." I felt bad making them wait for me; I hadn't realized they would.

"You guys didn't have to do that," I said stepping out of my common room and letting the door close behind me. It's shocking how much a few inches changes the temperature of the floor. "Alright, I'll come now, but we have to hurry, 'cause my feet are freezing."

"Where are your slippers? Shoes?" George corrected himself when I gave him a look. A month or so back, they had made a big deal about how it was practically illegal not to have slippers after I had told them that I didn't have any.

"I forgot them up in your common room last night."

"Well that was stupid," Fred laughed at me. "Why didn't you come back and get them."

"I didn't want to have to deal with Percy the Prat again," I shrugged.

When we finally made it all the way up to Gryffindor tower, and my feet felt like icicles again, Fred grinned, "Finally! Time for presents!"

"You guys really didn't have to wait for me," I said again after George gave the password.

"We asked the house elves to bring your presents up to our common room so we could all open them together so of course we waited," George shrugged. I sighed.

"No one sent me presents, guys."

"Then what do you call this?" Fred asked picking up a package from a small stack of presents at the end of the couch.

"It's probably for someone else," I said. "Put it ba—"

He cut me off and read from the package, "'To Skylar French. From—'" I practically launched myself at him as I ran forward to grab the present from him. If he was pranking me, so help me, I would… I didn't know yet, but something deviously Slytherin I was sure. I had to force myself to read the package and my heart practically stopped when I recognized my name on the wrapping paper. It wasn't in any handwriting I recognized though, and my hopes that it was from my family sank. When I read the rest of the words though, I was both confused and elated. _To Skylar French, From the Weasleys._

"What?" I looked up at the boys. It wasn't written in either of their handwritings either.

"We might've mentioned to our mum that you weren't expecting anything from your parents," Fred started.

"And mum might've had a bit of a fit and decided to send some stuff. And before you go pitching a fit over her making a fuss over you, there's seven of us already. Adding one more isn't a big deal from that perspective." I looked from one to the other before launching myself again, this time to catch them both in one big hug. They were standing shoulder to shoulder so I threw an arm around each of their necks.

"Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!" I squealed and they just laughed at me.

"C'mon then," Fred said as I pulled away. "To the presents!" He levitated my stack of presents closer to their piles, each understandably larger than mine, next to the fire place. The blanket I had been using was still on the couch and I dragged it down and wrapped it around my legs and toes as I braced my back against the couch. The twins both perched on their knees, looking primed to dive in. "Alright, on three then. One…."

"Two…."

"THREE!" They both dove in, quickly pulling the paper off each thing, but I went in a bit slower. I started with the package still in my hand, pulling the paper off gingerly. It was a box of fudge. I broke off a piece and stuck it my mouth, letting it melt on my tongue.

"Mmmmm," I hummed with a smile. The next package was from the school, I guessed from the scholarship fund. It was a knitted, green scarf with silver stripes at each end and I grinned as I wondered how many non-stolen Slytherin scarves had ever been in Gryffindor tower. The next gift was from Fred and George. I peeled the paper back and found one of the journals I had been admiring again in Hogsmeade last time I had gone with them. I wondered when they had bought it without my noticing. I opened it and a small piece of parchment fell onto my lap. It was written in George's left sloping handwriting—George was left handed while Fred was right handed so their handwriting was easy to tell apart, unlike their faces—and said, _To Our Lovely Little Slytherin, This journal is unreadable, except for by the person who wrote it, so write away. It'll keep your (and our) secrets safe from the snakes you live with. Merry Christmas and Happy Plotting! George and Fred._ Fred had signed his own name, the opposite slope making it stand out a bit. I laughed at the farewell and knew I would put it to good use. I hated having to hide so much from my roommates who I swear went through my things when I wasn't around. I had learned a locking spell to keep them out of my trunk, but I wasn't sure if it would really keep them out for good.

"Thank you, guys," I said, "But I didn't get you anything." I felt useless with my purely muggle money and wondered if I could fix that by their birthday. They waved off my words as they munched on their own fudge and I wondered how much their mother had had to make to feed eight kids. The next present was from Lee and was a nice quill, presumable to go with the journal. A note was written on this box: _Don't cringe, check the tip._ I laughed when I saw that it was actually a pen disguised as a quill. All the boys knew I hated quills. The things were just so messy and got ink _everywhere._ The last package was also signed from _the Weasleys_ and was soft. I pulled off the paper and found a Slytherin green sweater. It looked like the sweaters that the twins had already unwrapped and put on except that theirs were blue and each had the wearer's first initial on the front. I grinned and pulled mine over my head before wrapping my scarf loosely around my neck. "How do I look?" I asked the twins, imitating Tatiana's self-absorbed tone.

"Like a nasty Slytherin," Fred said bluntly.

"Good!" I grinned. I was Slytherin and I had to admit that I had come to kind of _like_ my oddness as the Muggleborn Slytherin of Hogwarts. They began pelting me with pieces of wrapping paper and I in turn threw paper at them. But as seen in our snowball wars, I have _really_ bad aim and hardly made contact. Until I started using my wand that is. And then, I dominated. They ran up the stairs to the boys dormitories yelling that using magic in a paper war was a low Slytherin trick and I chased them arguing that it was simply strategizing. The twins crashed into a room that I knew wasn't theirs and I was confused until I ran in after them and found Ron and Harry sitting on their beds in the midst of their own wrapping paper mess.

"Merry Christmas!" Fred sang to the surprised boys. Well one surprised boy—Ron looked too used to the twins' antics to be surprised.

"Hey, look—" George said. "Harry's got a Weasley jumper, too!"

"We match, Harry," I said, looking at his green sweater. Harry didn't seem to mind though and I thought that maybe, like me, he was happy someone had thought of him at all.

"Harry's is better than ours, though. Skylar's too," Fred observed first holding up Harry's and then inspecting mine. "She obviously makes more of an effort if you're not family." I didn't see the quality difference, but I didn't say anything.

"Why aren't you wearing yours, Ron?" George asked brusquely like Ron was using bad manners. "Come on, get it on, they're lovely and warm." They were and I silently hugged mine close to my body.

"I hate maroon," Ron sighed, but pulled it on anyways. I suppose the maroon looked a little weird with his hair, but it didn't look bad.

"Oh, c'mon, Ron," I teased. "You look adorable!" I laughed at the disgruntled look on his face. His low mumbling sounded vaguely like, 'I'll show _you_ adorable.'

"You haven't got a letter on yours. I suppose she thinks you don't forget your name." I declined stating the obvious that the identification was probably an aide for whoever the twins were talking to, rather than the boys themselves and also wondered how it did any good—the twins could easily just switch sweaters and confuse everyone anyways. "But we're not stupid," he continued. "We know we're called Gred and Forge."

"I'm going to call you that now, you know," I promised them snidely as I took a seat on one of the unoccupied beds.

"We dare you," the twins said in unison, eyes lighting, but before I could answer, Percy the Prat barged in. It was safe to say that I was still upset with him, but the twins seemed to have forgiven their brother in light of the holiday.

"What's all this noise?" Percy had poked his head in the door and looked his usual judgmental way. He was already dressed—seriously who gets dressed before presents on Christmas morning?—but he wasn't wearing his sweater from his mom. Instead, it hung over his arm as if he had only just unwrapped it when our 'noise' disrupted him. Fred grabbed his sweater and held it up for inspection.

"P for prefect! Get it on, Percy, come one, we're all wearing ours, even Skylar and Harry got theirs."

"I—don't—want—" The twins didn't care whether or not Percy wanted anything. They pulled the sweater over his head and I silently cheered them on. When his head, but not his arms, had poked out the right hole, his glasses completely off kilter, I grinned, quite liking Percy's completely disgruntled expression.

"And you're not sitting with the prefects today, either," George commanded his brother. "Christmas is a time for family." Ignoring his unhappy arguments and with his arms still trapped inside his sweater, they marched him out the door and down the stairs. I jumped up and followed, resisting the temptation to shoot a tripping hex at Percy's ankles. Ron and Harry followed me and together, we made our way down to breakfast.

Percy tried to disappear after breakfast, but we hunted him down, Fred distracting Ron and Harry while George and I scoured the Map for him. We found his dot, but he had also cast a disillusionment charm on himself so it took a couple passes to actually find him. By the time we found him, convinced him to come out of hiding with us and finished goofing off, it was just after noon and time for Christmas 'dinner'. Lunch more like, but this was far too grand to ever be considered just lunch. The roasted turkeys were huge and perfectly cooked, there were a couple different kinds of potatoes, and sausages and rolls and gravy and cranberry sauce, and even the green peas were delicious.

The most exciting part though, were the crackers. Fred and George, sorry _Gred and Forge_ , were shocked that I was so unfamiliar with the devices. I vaguely remembered making some in first grade out of toilet paper rolls, but I had never used them since. George held one out to me and instructed me to take the other end and then pull. I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't the gun shot-like _BANG_ and pink smoke that surrounded us. By the time the smoke dissipated, George held a top hat and a hamster while a tiara and black kitten had landed in my lap. I named the cat Gus. Gus hungrily eyed the hamster, but George released the hamster into the back of Percy's robes and Gus seemed perfectly content to sit with me and watch Percy do a frenzied GEORGE-WEASLEY-WHAT-THE-HELL-DID-YOU-STICK-DOWN-MY-NECK dance while I fed the kitten bits of turkey from my plate. By the time dinner was finished and we were all, even Gus, too full to eat another bite, I had gotten a platoon of green toy soldiers, a second crown, and a deck of exploding snap cards from the crackers and a whole galleon (my very own wizard money!) out the Flaming Christmas Pudding which didn't look a bit like pudding. The toy soldiers, like wizarding chess pieces, moved and talked and I was surprised at how very muggle they looked otherwise. Gus was enjoying chasing them and they called orders to one another, formations to fight the Black Beast from Hell, et cetera. Gus seemed to fend for himself fine though so I left them all on my bed while we all went out to play in the snow.

The snowball fight was everyman for himself and I was shocked at how ruthless Percy could be. He built himself a tank-like fort that might not have moved like a tank, but was completely impenetrable and had a swiveling cannon stuck to the front that shot with incredible velocity. Ron, Harry, Fred and George were all content with their mound-like forts though Fred and George rarely stayed behind theirs, too busy smashing Ron and Harry over the heads with snowballs or trying unsuccessfully to tunnel into Percy's tank. My fort was much different from my last one. It was two tiered to give me better leverage, but didn't have a back half and had lots of slots and windows for me to fire out of, with my wand to aide me of course.

I was busy trying to pummel Ron and Harry and keep an eye out for Percy's cannon which had already hit me a few times and had cracked my fort forcing me to pause for repairs. With enough enemies to watch, I didn't notice when Fred and George snuck behind my lines. "Get her!" Fred cried and I turned just in time to meet the barrage of missiles the twins had built to slam me with. To escape the bombardment, I jumped out of the nearest window, dropping ten feet into powder. With a swish of my wand and a muttered "Ruina," my fort crumbled onto the twins. I whooped in victory, only to be hit by Ron and Harry who had formed some kind of truce. Percy started firing blindly at all of us and we all made a truce in order to bring down his tank. We unashamedly used Ron and Harry for bait while Fred and George worked on breaking the cannon and I burrowed into Percy's shelter from above. "Hey there," I grinned when I finally broke through and Percy's bespectacled face turned up towards me. At close range, our six-way battle became less of a snowball fight and more of a fling-bits-of-this-cold-white-stuff fight or occasionally a look-at-this-funny-reaction-when-this-cold-wet-stuff-is-stuffed-down-his/her-shirt fight. By the end, I had never been so cold and my cheeks had never hurt from smiling so much.

We tumbled inside, cold and wet, to Gryffindor Tower where Percy tried to help Harry play chess and the twins and I all lounged on various couches and chairs. I had dozed off when Fred shook me awake. I stood and followed them all to the Great Hall where they were feeding us _again_ , the food just as good for this meal as for the last one even if it was a bit simpler. As we ate and my stomach grew fuller and fuller, there was a part of me still feeling like something was missing. When I realized what it was, I was embarrassed and ashamed of myself. It was Christmas and I hadn't read the Christmas story or even really thought about it all day. It wasn't like those around me believed in the story, in fact, there was a good chance the Weasleys had never even heard the story of the baby laid in a manger, the angels, the star, the virgin, the carpenter, the wise men, the shepherds, any of it. Well, I thought to myself, they might not believe or know any of it, but I did and that was what Christmas was all about. After dinner, the Weasleys and Harry all returned to their common room, but I told them I would meet them there. I swung down to my dormitory to grab my Bible. While I pulled the leather bound book off the shelf, Gus was under Lucille's bed chasing the last three still-fighting soldier men. One man who seemed to be missing an arm was laying on my pillow. "Please, Miss," he begged. "Save us from the demon!" Taking pity on the little fighters, I took them all, and a couple loose limbs, and dumped them all in the top drawer of my dresser. Their cries of thanks were quieted as I shut the drawer and put Gus back on my bed. He went and sat on my pillow and watched the drawer unblinkingly, his tail twitching. After admonishing him to be good and not pee on my pillow, I ran up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower, gave the password and walked in. Ron and Harry were lazily watching Percy chase Fred and George around the tower.

"What's going on?" I asked taking my usual seat on the couch near them.

"Fred and George stole Percy's Prefect badge. They said that if he can get it from them, they'll let him have it back," Ron explained. "But actually, they hid it behind that couch cushion when he wasn't looking." He was pointing to the cushion I leaned against and I grinned in a conspiring way.

"I won't tell if you don't," I promised them.

"This is more entertaining," Harry said watching the twins dodge Percy yet again. I watched with then for a few minutes before turning back to the book in my hands and opened to the second chapter of Luke.

"What book are you reading tonight?" Fred asked plopping down next to me. Percy had stomped off when he had finally caught them and they hadn't had the badge so their fun was over. Ron seemed to be dozing and Harry was looking off into the distance, thinking hard about something.

"The Bible," I said quietly as I read the words the angels had sang to the shepherds. Harry looked up in recognition and surprise, but as expected, the Weasley twins had no idea what I was talking about.

"What's that?" George asked sitting on the arm of the couch next to me. He leaned over to read along with me, but his forehead scrunched up in confusion.

"It's scripture. Christian scripture." Fred and George's faces both turned suspicious as they looked at the book.

"Aren't those the muggles who like to burn sorcerers at the stake?" George asked warily.

"Not that they were ever very good at it," Fred added, eyeing the book with disgust.

"You're a little behind the times," I told them evenly. "We don't burn people anymore, in fact, it's a bit _very_ illegal. Besides, if we did, I wouldn't still be with them."

"Wait, what?" the twins spoke in unison again.

"Christians aren't defined as people who hate sorcerers," I said. "They're people who believe in Jesus Christ and His teachings, some of which were recorded and put into the Bible. A lot don't really believe in magic anymore, not the way people did in the Middle Ages, but they think of magic as the devil's power, I guess. They see it as an evil thing. My parents did. I don't agree with their views on magic, of course, but the rest of it…."

" _You're_ one of _them?_ " Fred demanded.

"Yeah," I said. "I was raised believing in these teachings and I haven't seen anything to prove otherwise yet, so…."

"Really?" George said bitingly and I flinched. I noticed that Harry was hurrying Ron upstairs to bed and I wished I had a quick escape too. "The whole _magic_ part hasn't convinced you? You're parents throwing you out hasn't convinced you?" He was mad and I wasn't sure why. Sure, I had expected them to think I was being stupid, but I hadn't expected the anger.

"No, it hasn't," I said, trying to fake a back bone. "My parents were convinced that magic would be full of satanic rituals and whatnot, but I haven't seen anything like that. I think that I was blessed with these powers for a reason and that the Lord expects me to do some good with them."

"And to think, she's the smart one," George huffed to his brother before standing and starting to pace.

"This is completely stupid, Skylar," Fred said, flicking the thin pages. "It's just a bunch of silly myths people came up with to explain magic after the Statute of Secrecy was put up."

"The Bible was around long before the Statue of Secrecy, Fred," I hissed, pulling the book away from him. "And no, Christians are not always Christ-like and sometimes, they are very, very wrong, but that doesn't mean the Gospel is." I stood and stomped away from them, heading out the portrait.

"Skylar, wait," they called after me, but I yelled at them to leave me alone. Looking back, I'm sure there was a better way to handle all of it, but I had been so tired of hiding religion from Tatiana and Lucille, I hadn't even thought about hiding it from the twins. But they had attacked me for it anyways. I wanted to yell and stomp and scream. As I stomped through the castle, I could feel hot tears leaking down my face and off my chin. When I banged into my dormitory, Gus was curled up on my pillow. Somehow, the sight of him all peaceful like that broke me and I started sobbing, shutting the door quickly so no one else would hear. Gus woke up, stretched, and looked at me curiously and, I would almost say, concerned. I curled up on the bed next to him and he rubbed his head against mine, finally settling against my chest. His warmth eventually calmed as I laid there. Partially out of tradition and partially out of stubborn rebellion, I flipped my Bible back open and read the last few verses of the Christmas story before closing the book, changing into pajamas and falling asleep next to Gus, who was purring in his sleep.


	13. Sanity

I didn't want to deal with the twins so I went back to the tactics I had used at the beginning of the year: avoiding. With the Map in their possession and the knowledge that they would definitely use it to find me, there wasn't anywhere in the castle where I could really hide from them. I could however stay somewhere they couldn't get to me. And that is why I suddenly became very familiar with my own common room. Had I been in any house besides Slytherin, I don't think I could have pulled it off; at the very least, I would have had to leave the safety of the common room for meals. However, besides the natural stubbornness, ingrained in every one of us snakes, I had been forced to live with some of the wealthiest, snottiest kids in the country… kingdom, whatever.

Several of the more aristocratic pureblooded families had sent house elves to Hogwarts with their children. The elves would usually serve in the kitchens, but they had been instructed to keep the families' children as their top priorities. I had watched several kids summon their elves, usually treating them with rudeness and superiority. When I had mentioned the practice, the boys told me that Slytherin was the only house where that kind of thing was tolerated. While I wanted to argue that that couldn't possibly be true, I had to admit that I had certainly never seen a house elf in Gryffindor Tower. They had also informed me that _decent_ witches and wizards didn't command an elf's presence unless they don't have the ability or opportunity to go to elf. In the days following Christmas, I ignored this last bit and took to ordering meals in my dormitory. I figured that when everyone came back from holidays, it would be easier to avoid the twins and I would take meals in the Great Hall again like a normal person. Besides, I comforted myself with the fact that the elf, though it changed day to day, never seemed upset by my orders. In fact, they were all quite chipper about everything. The overly cheery attitudes grated on my nerves a bit, but it was a necessary and far preferable evil.

However, after three days of staying cooped up, the air beneath the lake felt stale and I turned a bit stir crazy. So on the third evening, I went to dinner with everyone else, hoping to blend in. I planned to slip up to the library afterwards and hoped the Weasleys would get the hint to leave me alone.

No such luck I'm afraid.

Not even two minutes into dinner, I felt two people sit on either side of me and knew the twins had joined me. "Why are you hiding from us?" Fred demanded. I remained silent, not even looking at them, naïvely hoping that if I ignored them, they would go away.

"Come on, Skylar," George growled. "Talk to us!" But I didn't want to. I knew it would quickly turn into a loud, furious argument. I had a bad habit of crying when I got frustrated and wanted to avoid that headache. So I continued to nibble on a roll, avoiding eye contact with everyone. I noticed though that some of the other Slytherins were eyeing the gingers on either side of me suspiciously and I knew the hands they kept hidden under the table clutched wands, ready to be pulled out in a second.

Annoyed that I was ignoring them, they acted as one. George tore the roll from my hand, dropped in on my plate and slid my meal several feet away feet up the table from me, out of reach, while Fred grabbed my shoulders and spun me toward him. "Stop ignoring us!"

At least three wands around us were pulled out and Aaron Burklumb, a six year snarled, "Let go of her, Weasley."

"Shove off," Fred spit back. "This is none of your business."

"She's Slytherin. That makes it our business."

I could see everyone around me, the twins, Burklumb and the other Slytherins coming very close to a fight. Keen to avoid the inevitable injury and destruction, I spoke for the first time. "Let go of me, Fred." He obeyed immediately, a relieved expression washing over his face. It disappeared only a second later when I ordered, "Both of you go back to your own table."

"Not unless you come with us," George said. "We need to talk to you."

"No. Now go before I let them start hexing you." The twins glanced at the wands still pointed their way.

"Oh please," George said and even though he was behind me because of how Fred had turned me, I could practically feel George rolling his eyes. "We can take them." There were at least ten Slytherins watching the exchange. Half of them already had their wands out while the other half held their under the table. The twins were good, but ten on two wasn't good odds. Even as pissed at them as I was, I didn't want to see the twins get themselves hurt.

Turning back to George, I looked him in the eye and said slowly and clearly, "I don't want you to. Now get out of here."

He looked like he was going to argue again, but before he could, another upperclassman whom I didn't know spoke. "You heard her, Weasleys. Get _out_." He punctuated the last word with a hex that hit George in the shoulder. George grabbed the spot while both twins whipped out their wands at the same time another eight Slytherins did. Before anyone could utter more than war cries though, Snape swept in.

"What is going on here?" he drawled. The twins glared at him mutinously, but wisely stayed silent, knowing that anything they said would only hurt their case.

"They were grabbing and threatening French, sir," Burklumb said. "She told them to leave several times, but they wouldn't so Samuel shot a hex at that one," he pointer to where George still had a hand clasped over his shoulder.

"Which hex?" Snape asked this Samuel, speaking over the twins' objections.

"A welting hex, sir. He won't be seriously hurt." I was once again avoiding looking at either Fred or George, but out of my peripheral, I saw George pull the collar of his robes aside revealing a massively cringe-worthy welt. Already barely holding onto my blank mask, I carefully avoided reacting to the injury, minor though it may have been in perspective.

"Is all this true, Miss French?" Snape turned to me, sounding not at all concerned. I wondered why he even bothered to ask; he didn't usually check the validity of an accusation when directed from Slytherin to Gryffindor.

"They didn't threaten me, sir," I said, "but the rest is true." Fred scowled at me while George scowled at Samuel.

"Ten points from Gryffindor a piece then, I think. Now, both of you, back to your own table." With only parting glares for all us Slytherins, the twins spun away and stomped off. Snape left without a parting word and I retook the seat I hadn't realized I had vacated in the first place. Someone slid my plate back towards me and several people asked if I was alright.

"I'm fine," I said. After another long moment, I added, "Thank you," specifically to Burklumb and Samuel, but including all of them as I looked around.

"We're Slytherin," Samuel shrugged as he pocketed his wand. "We take care of one another." I nodded without responding.

"So what's their problem?" An older girl asked me. I recognized her as a friend of Justin's older sister, but I couldn't remember her name. "Aren't you usually glued to them at the hip?"

"We had a disagreement," I said, "and I've been avoiding them for a couple days."

"What about?" she dug and I felt myself bristling. I tried to relax so as not to alienate another person who had helped me.

"Personal philosophies," I answered vaguely, not wanting to start something with these people, too. If I couldn't trust Fred and George to support me, who could I trust? When she opened her mouth to dig deeper, I cut across her, explaining all I was willing to. "They think I'm being stupid and I think it's none of their business." She finally got the hint that the issue of our disagreement wasn't any of her business either.

"Why don't you just use some of their own tricks against them?" Aaron suggested. "We all know you were behind that food attack before." I smirked up at him, neither confessing nor denying my involvement, before sighing and shaking my head.

"That risks running into them again and I don't want to deal with that right now." Rather than encourage me to take the risk, as any Gryffindor worth his salt would have, the Slytherins shrugged and let me be. They spoke to me a few more times, mostly short comments or questions, but didn't press me, seeing that I was already at my wits end. When I pushed my mostly uneaten plate away and stood, appetite lost, a few nodded to me, but no one made a big deal about it and they let me leave with a word.

I wandered around the library's too small fiction section before finding an interesting one and settling myself into an obliging armchair somewhere in the maze of shelves. I was unsurprised when they found me there.

"Lost your ugly bodyguards, have you?" George asked with mock concern. I remained quiet again and just stared at my book even though I was now too distracted to absorb any of the words on the page.

"Stop this, will you?" Fred groaned in frustration. "You're being juvenile!" He certainly knew how to get my attention. My eyes shot up to his furiously.

"Why won't you two just leave me alone then if I'm so stupid and juvenile?" I shot.

"Because you're usually not like this! Usually you're smart and brilliant and fun! What the hell happened? Is this because we didn't bloody believe your stupid muggle book?"

"You don't have to believe it or agree with it, but if you can't freaking respect _my_ right to believe what I want, then you can freaking leave me alone!" Madam Pince came around the corner then, clear fury in her eyes.

"What is going on here?" she demanded and without waiting for a response continued, " _Nothing_ excuses raised voices in the Library. _Nothing!_ "

In a bad mood, I didn't filter what came out of my mouth. I should have said something along the lines of, 'We're sorry, Madam Pince. We'll lower our voices.' Instead, I asked snidely, "What about murder? Would murder justify raised voices?" The twins looked at me in shock. I might break school rules on an almost daily basis, but I never spoke rudely to an adult's face.

"Out!" she barked. "Out of my library!" I dropped my novel onto the seat of the armchair and stalked out past the twins, chin held high.

"Damn," I heard them both whistle as they followed me. I was all the way out the door and starting down the stairs when they hurried to get ahead, blocking my way. "What was that?" Fred asked completely incredulous.

"I'm mad. Now get out of my way." I shoved past them, but they just got right back in my way.

"You got that mad because of _us?_ " George asked. Had they really not realized how upset I was?

"Yes," I snapped. My throat was starting to get scratchy, but I didn't think they could hear it in my voice. I hoped they couldn't. I tried to shove past them again, but this time, Fred grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the door George held open for us. Fred dragged me in, only letting go after George had closed and locked the door. I could always just unlock it and blast past them—I was itching to pull my wand from my sleeve—but I stayed where I was, measuring them both.

"Explain how our not liking your muggle book, which by the way led to wizards being hunted and forced into hiding, makes you so mad," Fred ordered. I glared at them arms crossed, but they just sat against a couple desks.

"Go on," George said. "I know you're dying to yell at us." I was.

"You don't have to like the book." I snarled, but held myself back from yelling. "But you called me stupid for believing what I do!"

"You've got to admit though, Skylar," Fred started, "that believing in an all-knowing, all-controlling being—"

"Who lets shit happen to good people, it's pretty nutters."

"It's not nutters!" I yelled finally. Both of them voiced their approval at the outburst, but I ignored them and kept going. "In the muggle world, they'd call me crazy for believing in magic! My parents call me crazy for believing there's any good in the magical world! I don't freaking care what is crazy anymore!" I could feel tears running down my face and I shoved at them, annoyed when they were instantly replaced. I knew my face was already splotchy and getting worse by the second, but I couldn't help it. "I am dealing with all the crazy in my life and that 'stupid muggle book' as you call it is one of the few things that calms me down enough to stay sane!"

"This is calm?" Fred asked at the same time George asked, "This is sane?"

"No," I snapped at both of them. "This is what happens when you take away the only things that keep me sane!" My emotions had long since stopped consulting my brain before they spit out words and I hardly knew what I was saying. With a huff, I stopped taking and was scrubbing my face of tears, hands covering my eyes when Fred spoke into the quiet room.

"Things?"

I stopped and stared at him. "What?"

"You said 'things'?"

"Twice," George added. Godric, I hated being so emotional.

"You guys kept me sane, too," I said quietly. They stared at me and I braced myself for them to laugh. They looked to one another then back to me.

"We're sorry," they said. "We didn't realize…." I shrugged, my heart rate slowing.

"I'm sorry, too" I said, "for blowing up. Like I said, crazy," I added, trying to joke. They smiled at least.

"Come on," Fred said, unlocking the door and motioning us out.

"Where're we going?" I asked.

"Kitchens. I want some cake." I rolled my eyes, but followed without argument. I could use some tea, anyways.

"You know," George said as he draped an arm around my shoulders. "If we keep you sane, there must be something wrong with you." He was smiling though so I knew that this time, he was teasing. "I don't know very many—"

" _Any,_ " Fred interrupted. "We don't know _any_ people that would call us calming." I laughed. What they said was true enough; explosions and messy chaos was the norm around these two.

"Your crazy balances my crazy," I smiled tentatively. It never ceased to surprise me how quickly these two could forgive and forget. The twins joked and babbled all the way down the stairs. Outside the Great Hall, we passed Slytherins going the opposite way. They had been part of the bunch to raise wands in my defense and they looked at me now with raised eyebrows, silently asking what had happened in the hour since I had left the dinner table. I shrugged, trying to communicate that the argument was solved, but they still eyed the twins suspiciously. Fred and George ignored the others, but they did walk closer to me until the other Slytherins were past.

By the time the rest of the students returned from their holidays, the twins and I were back to normal, better than before actually. Lee noticed I think, but didn't comment, just going along with it. I'm sure the twins told him when I wasn't around, but no one ever mentioned a discussion to me. We all spent the last weekend of break running around the castle and brainstorming. The twins thought it had been too quiet recently and wanted to liven up the castle. It probably wasn't wise, but I went along with it and we went through dozens of ideas, none seeming _quite_ right.

On the morning that classes began again, a scruffy looking owl I recognized as the Weasleys' family owl dropped into Fred's cereal, spraying us all with milk. Errol hopped up, nibbled at a piece of toast Lee offered him before stumbled into flight, tumbling out of the window with the other owls. I shook my head at the odd thing and turned back to Fred who was opening the sealed letter.

"What is it?" I asked. "You guys haven't been up to anything behind my back, have you?" With a decrepit owl and four kids at the school, Errol usually delivered one letter to Percy who then passed it to the twins who then gave it to Ron when they remembered. Errol only came to the twins first when they, often extending to _we,_ were in trouble.

"I can't tell," Fred said, pulling his wand out and casting a drying spell on the milk drenched parchment. It dried curly and crinkly, but it seemed to satisfy Fred and he put his wand away and started reading, George leaning over to read along.

"It's about you," they said looking up at me.

"Me? Why?"

"I don't know," George said taking the letter from his brother who didn't seem to mind. "She says you wrote her a letter to thank her for the Christmas gifts. When did you do that?" He looked up at me in confusion while Fred took the letter back.

"When I was, uh, avoiding you all. I didn't have a lot to do and I convinced one of the elves to post it for me." The twins gave me a stern look, an unusual thing coming from them. They hadn't approved of my using the elves as 'personal slaves' in their words, which I argued I hadn't really, but they didn't push too hard. Besides, when we had visited the kitchens, the elves had been ecstatic to see us, me included, and had even asked if they could come see "Gusket", apparently derived from "Gus cat", again. "It was the polite thing to do," I continued. "She made gifts for a total stranger," and I had been so incredibly grateful. The green sweater had become my wardrobe staple over the break, both for wearing around the castle and sleeping in.

"She says that you are a sweet girl and that we should follow you example," Fred read. Lee snorted into his pumpkin juice. It was a common misconception upon meeting me that I was sweet, but I got into trouble almost as much as the boys. This mistaken innocence had gotten me out of trouble plenty of times already, mostly when caught wandering around parts of the castle I shouldn't. Quite often, Fred, George and Lee were hiding in the shadows while I made up an excuse for Professor Flickwit explaining what I could possibly be doing up in the steeple by the school's large clock (definitely not bewitching the clock so that all bells ended classes ten minutes early and started class ten minutes late; it had taken a couple days for the teachers to figure that one out). I threw a napkin at Lee's head, which he redirected to the round first year, Neville Longbottom, who sat next to me and was nervously watching the owls waiting for a package of things he had forgotten at home.

"What else does she say?"

"Not much. Just to be good and study hard and to keep an eye on Ronniekins." It was my turn to snort now. Ron, Harry and Hermione had been whispering together since even before break and looked quite suspiciously like they were plotting something.

"Have fun with that," I said. Ron saw all four of us watching him and his friends. He glared before leaning closer to Harry and Hermione, standing a textbook up so we couldn't see what he what they were saying. Only their very serious and frustrated expressions could be seen. Before we could discuss the twins' little brother further, the bell rang, sending us all off to our first class of the New Year.


	14. Into the Woods

After spending practically all my time in the Gryffindor common room over the break, minus those three unfortunate days, it was like whiplash to once again be spending my evenings in the Slytherin common room nearly every night. "Are you three fighting again?" the nosy girl, who I had since learned was named Melissa Bullistrode, something you would never guess because she looked nothing like her first year sister, asked me one evening.

"No," I said, ignoring the looks from Terence, Justin, Isaac and Joshua. I hadn't told them about my argument with the twins because I knew they would feel more justified pressing me for information than our other housemates had. I was pretty sure they would take a harsher view than the twins had on my 'stupid muggle book'. "They've just been busy with Quidditch practice." Wood was pushing them hard in preparation for their match against Hufflepuff and they had practice three or four times a week. I think that the only reason practices weren't _every_ night was because Wood was a fifth year and had to prepare for his OWLs. The weather was apparently still trying to make up its mind about whether it was ready for spring or staying back in winter, but either way, the team always came back from Quidditch practice soaking wet, freezing cold and mud splattered.

Terence wasn't fairing any better, except that Slytherin practices were earlier in the afternoons and fewer nights each week. He still seemed to grow steadily more miserable as the weeks passed. When any of us would ask him what was wrong, he would claim that he was tired and stomp off to his room. It was irritating, but we couldn't figure out any way to cheer him up. Even the trick I stole from the twins hardly ever made him smile and finally, we gave up, knowing that he would come to one of us eventually when he was ready.

One evening, mid-February, I stepped into Snape's office, surprised to find it was warm for once. "Sir?" I asked I figured he had forgotten I had detention tonight. Maybe he would send me away and I would get to hang out with the twins for a bit. They had had practice the last two nights and another Sunday afternoon. Though they were both brilliant and usually had good marks, they were never overly concerned with homework, but now they were worryingly behind and had been threatened with detention by three different teachers including the one in front of me. I had promised to help them tackle their piles after tonight's detention, but if I could get out of detention, I could go help them sooner, get done with the homework sooner and maybe start working on the 'absolutely brilliant' idea George claimed to have had for a new prank.

"Come in here, girl," Snape snapped impatiently and I stepped up to his desk disappointedly. "I need to make a demonstrational potion for the first years' lesson tomorrow, but unfortunately, I find myself busy with seventh year essays to grade. I trust you are proficient enough for this little task." What little task?

"Sir?" He sighed, thoroughly annoyed with my ignorance.

"You will be making the potion this evening." When I didn't respond, shocked as I was, he continued, "Or, if you prefer, you could always continue preserving ingredients." That shook me out of my silence.

"No, sir!" I protested. "I'll make the potion." He smirked at me, superiority clear in his eyes and I had to restrain myself form saying something stupid, which would surely only put me back canning the smelliest of his collection. He directed me to the cauldron on the corner.

"Page 61," he told me, gesturing to the book sitting next to the cauldron on the table. "And you know where to find your ingredients," he added with a sneer. It was true; I had probably canned every single ingredient on this list. I wrinkled my nose when I saw hedgehog needles listed. When I had been canning those, I had stabbed every single finger multiple times and my hands had been covered in so many bandages that both my Gryffindor and Slytherin friends had called me 'Clutz' for weeks. Those like Tatiana told me not to leak my dirty blood on them. In retribution, I slipped the used bandages under their pillows like some kind of sick tooth fairy. I had enjoyed hearing random screams coming from their rooms over the next few days as they discovered them.

The potion was a simple one used for removing skin blemishes and I finished within an hour. I figured he would put me back to work canning ingredients. I was surprised though when, at the announcement of the potion's completion, he said without looking out, "You may go after you clean your station. Leave the potion in the cauldron." Careful not to ruin this apparent good mood, I silently did as told and left quickly before he could order me back.

"You're early," Lee commented when I let myself into their common room.

"Do we need to help you hide his body?" George asked with a casualness that made me want to answer 'yes' just to see how good of a friend he was.

"No, stupid," I said instead, elbowing him instead.

"Well then, has he take ill?" Fred asked.

"No, he's not sick either. He had me set up a potion for the first years tomorrow and then let me leave." Hermione, who as usual was studiously flipping through a heavy and very dull appearing book, looked up at full attention. Ron and Harry, next to her and looking through the same type of books, far less common behavior for them, looked up at her expectantly.

"Did you find him?" Ron asked, nudging her while Harry leaned over to scan the page she had been on. She pushed them both away.

"What potion are we studying tomorrow?" she asked me urgently. The boys looked to me in confusion, though I wasn't sure why. Hermione's school-oriented attitude had already spread school wide. I believe the Ravenclaws were using her name as both a praise and swear at this point.

"Berg's Blemish Reliever," I told her. "Page 61." She whipped out her bag and dug through it until she pulled out her Potion's textbook, flipped to what I assume was the appropriate page and ran her fingers through the ingredients and instructions.

"What's Flamel got to do with that?" Harry asked her impatiently.

"What? Oh, nothing. I just wanted to be prepared tomorrow." The boys gave identical groans of annoyance while Hermione ignored them. Weirdly bookish little kid. Fred, George and Lee were still looking at me with confused expressions.

"Are you _positive_ you didn't kill him?" Fred asked.

"You know you could tell us, right?" Lee added. "No matter what you did?"

"I'm positive, guys." They still looked suspicious. "Do you guys not want help with your homework?" I asked. "Because if not, I could leave." I stood up and walked a few feet without looking back at them.

"No!" they all three shouted, stopping be before I had even gotten to the other side of the couch. The lovable idiots hadn't noticed that I had left my bag. They all looked as terrified as if McGonagall had caught them laying dungbombs in the Great Hall.

"Them you should probably get it out," I told them, settling back into my seat. The twins took out their bags and began pulling piles of books and bits of parchment out.

"We'll divide this up by subject, I think," Fred said while Lee and I looked forlornly at the mass of work ahead of us. If I had known there was this much, I would have considered faking an illness; probably wouldn't have gone through of it, but I would have considered it.

"And make sure that whatever you're writing you don't make both essays exactly the same. We've gotten in trouble for that before," George instructed.

"But the outlines can match," Fred soothed. "They don't seem to mind that." He paged through a few things before pulling out _Standard Book of Spells: Grade 3_ and handing it to Lee. "Lee, you'll be on charms. The freezing charm."

"That was due two and a half weeks ago!" Lee said.

"Then you'll be an expert on it by now, won't you," Fred replied before turning back to the pile. "Skylar…er…."

"Give her Divinations," George suggested pulling out the correct book. "She doesn't have to be up to date with the subject to do it."

"Right," Fred agreed handing me the book and a stack of parchment. "You'll just be recording our dreams for the last three weeks." At my look, he sighed irritably, "Yes, yes, we're quite a bit behind. Just make stuff up. And no big deal if you recycle some dreams, we'll just say their reoccurring or that it's a twin thing or whatever."

"And the more tragic, the better," George informed me as he shifted through books and papers. "The batty woman likes to think the whole world is going to crumble in ashes.

"Isn't she supposed to be a real Seer," I asked. Religious and all, I figured there were some genuine ones out there whether wizard or not, though I was still skeptical on each individual case.

"She thinks she is, but she's an absolute nutter," George grinned. "Beginning of the year, she predicted that before the year was up, Sophia Garthslynn would die and Fred and I would be separated for all eternity.

"Sounds like she's fun at parties," I said, pulling out my quill from Lee. "Will she know or care if my handwriting doesn't match yours?" I asked, cringing at the idea of the potential hand cramp if I had to warp my handwriting into theirs.

"Nah," Fred said. "If she says anything, we'll just say we'll getting in touch with our inner selves or something." After the twins split Transfiguration and Potions between them, we sat together in a rare near silence for a couple hours. When I finished their dream journals, a project which only took about forty five minutes, I told the twins, "You two have a couple of messed up brains…each. Now what next?" They set me on an essay about centaurs; having met the beasts one terrifying night in the Forbidden Forest made up for my not having ever attended the class. After finishing that and helping George finish a particularly nasty Potion's essay on Chizpurfle Carapaces, we all sat back in exhaustion.

"Ugh," Lee groaned. "I never want to hear about Freezing Charms again!"

"Thanks, mate," Fred said as he scooped everything into a big pile and shoving it all into their bags. "We would have died doing all that on our own."

"Quite literally," George mumbled, his head pillowed on his arms.

"My hand is killing me," I complained and massaged the cramp which had grown across the palm of my hand.

"Can we heal it up with a trip to the kitchens?" Fred offered and I grinned. They knew me far too well. Hopping up, I slung my bag over my shoulder while they left theirs where they were. No one here was stupid enough to bother the temporarily abandoned bags; everyone had learned to be wary when one stolen in attempted revenge plot unexpectedly exploded.

"Have you got your journal with you, Skylar?" George asked. "We've got to record my _brilliant_ idea away from Percy's prying eyes." Upon hearing his name Percy snapped towards us. Before he could utter a word in our direction though, I followed the twins and Lee out with a wave toward the pissed prefect.

"But of course I have it," I said, patting my bag. Since I had unwrapped it Christmas morning, we had filled at least a dozen pages with the boys' ideas. I had filled out another five with my own plots, most of which were against Tatiana and her bewitched puppy Lucille. Another three pages were just ramblings, random thoughts, quotes heard in the halls, and a bit of blackmail against Gregory Goyle, should I ever need it.

After the usual enthusiastic welcome from the elves, we sat at the Gryffindor-equivalent table and got to discussing, only interrupted briefly when the elves brought cookies and hot chocolate. Through the munching and sipping, we outline the plot, the excitement growing the further we got. "If we pull this in the Great Hall," I warned them, "we'll be caught for sure."

"But that's where we'll hit the most people!" Lee and Fred complained as one. George looked like he would have joined this plea if his mouth hadn't been full of cookie.

"Fine, but we'll all have detention for a week. Let's at least look for another target before we commit to the Great Hall." In the end, I had to agree that the Great Hall was the best place to pull this off which meant extra precautions to at least _try_ to avoid detentions. We set to planning, diagraming, and dividing responsibilities.

After almost an hour of figuring logistics, I was adamant. "No. We are _not_ going into the forest tonight," I told them. "I refuse."

"Skylar, if you're scared, it's okay," George offered.

"Although, why you won't go is beyond me," Fred pouted mildly.

"You've gone before," Lee reminded me unnecessarily. "Nothing happened any of those times."

"Tonight is the full moon," I informed them. "I am not going in there where there might be werewolves and neither are you."

"Skylar," Lee argued rationally. "There are _always_ dangerous things in the forest. You were fine going in the last five or six times.

"Most of those times, we were just going on the edge of the forest," I insisted. "Besides, if I can take even just one dangerous, carnivorous creature out of the equation, I'll feel that much better." I wasn't telling them everything, but that was okay with me, I would rather not relive the details. The previous night I had accidently fallen asleep in the library while studying, but when I had woken up after curfew, there had been teachers in there, collecting material for their lessons, and I had been left with no other option than to sit very quietly and listen to their conversation. They had been discussing a particularly beastly werewolf. This werewolf, Greyback, _liked_ being a werewolf; he had probably been a sadist long before he was bitten. Worse still, he preferred children. Before the moon rose on full moon nights, he would position himself somewhere near people, families, so that when the wolf took over, he was sure to get some kids. The muggle studies teacher, Professor Gurmange, had heard that it was because he liked the "tender meat of children," but Flickwit said he targeted specific kids as revenge against parents he felt had wronged him. Everyone agreed that even though he wasn't actually a Death Eater, he had voluntarily worked for You-Know-Who during the war. Any one of those reasons was good enough for me to stay out of the forest when the moon was round because what better place to find kids than a school.

The boys all looked at each other with exasperation, but finally conceded. "Fine," Fred sighed. We won't go into the forest tonight, but we've got to go soon." I nodded in agreement and leaned back to discuss the rest of the details.

"Come on Skylar, just a bit further. I swear I can see the will o' the wisps just a bit further." I couldn't see the mysterious little lanterns anywhere. They were said to guard the weed we were hunting down, a vital part of our plot. But though the boys had claimed to be seeing them for the last half an hour, I had yet to see a single one. Worse, we had yet to see the weed. I hated it in these woods. It wasn't the dark that bothered me, it was the fact that I couldn't see what was around me. The boys would have laughed at my reasoning, but it actually made perfect sense. I didn't mind the dark in my room because I knew what was in my room, but this dark…I didn't know what was here which meant I was imagining all my least favorite things, the things that made me want to scream. The breeze in the trees sounded like snakes slithering around (yes, yes, a Slytherin afraid of snakes, mock me as you like). The shuffle of life around us had me imagining bugs of all sorts, slimy ones, too many legged ones, all curling around my ankles and climbing up my legs. The screech of bats in the distance sounded like my little sister screaming. And now, on top of all the old fears, the boys footsteps, further ahead of me suddenly sounded like a hunting werewolf. A mossy vine hung down and grazed my face and I let out a yelp.

"Are you okay back there?"

"I'm fine, fine," I muttered, annoyed at my nerves. Why couldn't I be a fearless lion like the rest of them? When I tripped over a tree root and fell face first to the ground, my hand landed on something mushy, I shot up with a yelp, shaking whatever it was off my hand, running forward until I stood between Fred and Lee.

"Are you sure?" Lee laughed at me.

"Shut up," I grumbled, wiping the last of whatever was on my hand onto my jeans. We walked for another several minutes until Lee pointed and finally, I saw it. A will o' the wisp. It hung there lazily, the cobalt glow leading us forward and I swear I could hear it laughing at us. It disappeared when we were a few yards away and we all lit our wands, searching the ground for this weed. "What the heck?" I muttered, the light from my wand lighting the goo I had wiped onto my jeans. It was silver, like mercury and had a familiar stickiness to it that I couldn't quite place.

"What's that?" Fred asked, inquiring about the stain.

"I don't know. My hand landed in something gooey when I fell and I wiped it onto my jeans."

"Hmm," the boys hummed, more interested in finding the weed. I joined them in looking, but suddenly stood stock still, hardly letting myself breath. There it was, the dark green weed we needed. Nestled on top of and all around it though, was a nest of…I don't even know what. It looked like a cross between a cockroach and a puppy. And the biggest one was looking at me with the beadiest eyes I had ever seen. I started hyperventilating. I hated even finding spiders in my room, a routine which had dropped off suddenly when Gus moved in, thank Merlin, but this, _this_ was worse. You couldn't trap one of these with a jar. Maybe with one of Hagrid's tankards, but even that would be questionable. I don't think I had moved for a full two minutes when George finally noticed me still there. "Skylar?" I barely looked at him, just a flick of my eyes before turning back to the _thing_. George moved his wand light closer to where I stood, an "Oh," escaping when he saw what held me transfixed. I had counted twenty six legs on this little monster, all constantly twitching. If I ran, would it or any of its brood be able to catch up? "Oi," George whispered to the others, "over here."

They joined us with similar "Oh" sounds.

"Can you kill them, first try?" I asked, mentally adding, _before they try to kill us._

"Not without risking the plant," Lee said. I was willing the burn down the whole damn forest, but I knew they wanted the weed. I tried closing my eyes, but that only trained my other senses on the monster. I hadn't realized to odd little clicks being emitted, or the smell of dung. Plus now, my mind filled in its own picture of what might be happening. It could very well be creeping towards me and onto my shoe and up my legs... Eyes open, I gulped on air, trying very hard not to gag.

"Do something!" I begged. "Please!"

"Are you scared, Skylar?" Fred teased and I fixed a threatening glare on him.

"Get rid of whatever that is and get us out of here now or I swear to the powers that be that I will personally report our excursion to McGonagall." He snickered along with the others and I growled.

"Put your wand out," Fred ordered. "You guys too," he added. I wanted to say no. I didn't want the dark because I had already experienced the heightened terror that came when you couldn't see what _it_ was doing. Panic closed my throat and I couldn't utter the spell to extinguish my light whether I wanted to or not. I stood there gulping until George reached over, took my wand and said the spell for me, immediately returning the wand to me. "Alright," Fred said, "I'm going to go this way and see if it follows my light. He began slowly walking backwards, taking large steps backwards into the unknown. The thing followed the light with its eyes, but didn't move otherwise.

"Maybe just kick it?" Lee suggested when Fred rejoined us. I had calmed somewhat when the think wasn't looking at me anymore, but that sounded like the worst possible plan to me.

"Kick it?!" I practically screeched, a bad move seeing as the noise turned its attention back to me. I clammed up again until Fred took its attention back, waving his wand light around again. "That's an awful idea," I hissed now. "What if it attacks us?"

"Put up one of your shields," George suggested and I obeyed without another thought. Protected on all sides, I let out a deep breath. "Ready?" George asked the other two. Ready for what?

"Yup."  
"Give 'er all you got!" George pulled his leg back and I realized: he really was going to kick it. My warning got stuck in my throat as the beastly little thing was flung twenty feet away. The smaller critters all scurried it the same general direction in had flown in. "Get it quick!" Lee said. Fred yanked the weed out by the roots and yelled for us all to run. This seemed like a good plan to me so I did. I would never be able to outrun the taller, more athletic boys, but I don't think I had ever moved so fast. As soon as we were well out of the forest's reach, I collapsed onto the ground, never more grateful for regular, safe grass. Fred and George each braced their hands on their knees, breathing hard while Lee sat down heavily next to me. "Well that was fun," he grinned at last, and even I had to laugh along with the others.

As I had predicted, three days later, we had all landed ourselves detentions. When the malodorous pillars of fog had crept form under each table, McGonagall had immediately turned her eyes on each of us. Fred, George and Lee were sitting together, grinning as they looked over at the plumes of smoke. I was over at the Slytherin table, but had convinced my friends to sit at the end furthest from where I knew the stink bomb was planted and had my sleeve over my nose despite the fact that the stink hadn't yet reached us. Minerva McGonagall is not a stupid woman. After about half the students had run from the stench and the teachers had syphoned out the stinky smoke, I noticed McGonagall conferring with Professor Snape, never a good sign. They parted and McGonagall marched towards the boys while Snape swept up Slytherin table towards me. I wasn't sure which was a scarier sight.

"Miss French," Snape drawled as he approached me. The boys around me all sat at attention, their grammar turning more formal and all cussing ceased.

"Good evening, sir," Joshua schmoozed and I rolled my eyes at him, something he ignored stoically. It wasn't that I didn't respect Snape, if anything, it was because I respected him that I didn't kiss up like the others. He knew I didn't think kindly of him and if I became a kiss up like the others did, in a vain hope that he would favor me, I knew that any chance of him ever respecting me would be lost. Snape nodded at Joshua without looking at him, his sneer still on me.

"Professor McGonagall suspect you of playing a part in the commotion a few moments ago," he sounded bored. I looked at him without answering. The twins would have made a smart-alek response to try and ease the blame away, but as much as I loved them, I was not the boys. Besides, a blithe comment to Snape would only piss him off. "Hmm," Snape looked down his nose at me. "You and your coconspirators will receive a night of detention. You will be notified when the time and place have been decided." He began to leave, but turned his head, not quite looking back at me. "I'm a little surprised," he said, "Your plans usually have more finesse that this." He gesture to the Great Hall obviously referencing the recent stench.

"It wasn't my plan," I shrugged and he left without even a nod.

"They've gone and gotten you in trouble _again_ ," Isaac grumbled.

I just shrugged again. "But I was a part of it. Besides, I'll get the lighter end of the punishment. I always do." The Hogwarts staff seemed to be under the impression that if not for the boys, I wouldn't act out or break rules so they often gave me lighter sentences than Lee or the twins. The staff was wrong. I might not have become a prankster, but bending the rules wasn't something I was overly disinclined to. However, I wasn't going to be the one to tell them that.

"This wouldn't have anything to do with why you were so jumpy the other night, would it?" Isaac asked suspiciously. The others were listening, but I just stuck my tongue out at them and turned back to my dinner. "We have to keep you under constant surveillance, don't we?" he sighed. "How many detentions have you had this month?"

"Three," I said, licking the back of my spoon, "including the weekly ones. This will be my fourth."

"Why don't you sound concerned about that?" Justin asked in bewilderment. "You know when we graduate and are applying for jobs, they can look and see our disciplinary record. And yours will be—" I waved off his worries.

"If my grades and achievements don't encourage them to look past a few detentions, then I don't want to work for them," I quipped. Besides, I thought to myself, there was always the twins' idea. They talked about wanting to start their own joke shop when they graduated, bigger and better than Zonko's. If worst came to worst and no one else wanted me, I could always bully them into letting me help out there.


	15. Home?

The Slytherins lost their game against Ravenclaw and were now in last place for the Quidditch cup. Terence got even moodier than before and wouldn't talk to any of us. Word was, though we didn't hear it from Terence, Flint yelled at the team for a full half hour before letting them go. The rest of the House wasn't much happier with our players. All in all, Slytherins were a rather aggravating bunch to be around for the next couple weeks so I once again was spending little to no time in the common room and rarely taking meals at our table. Instead, I was again pretending to be a Gryffindor. At least that's what Tatiana called it.

I was eating breakfast with the twins and Lee when a sleek owl landed in front of me. I never got mail—I didn't have anyone to get mail from—so I ignored the bird until it started hopping further. "Shoo!" I told it, flapping my hand in its direction. It looked affronted as it hopped a few steps back. When I went back to the boys' conversation though, it hopped closer, right on to my plate in fact. "Hey!" I barked at it and it stuck its leg out.

"I think you should take that," Fred suggested with a giddy look that made me suspicious. In an effort to get rid of the annoying bird though, I took his advice, grumbling the whole while that the bloody bird had made a mistake. The owl flew off with an annoyed hoot as soon as I had taken the letter.

"What is it?" Lee asked, leaning over George to look. Fred and George were sharing a look. I looked back and forth between them, trying to figure it out before giving up and breaking the seal on the folded paper. I recognized the distinctively loopy handwriting: Dumbledore. I looked up towards the head table to where he was deep in conversation with McGonagall.

 _'Dear Skylar,'_ it said. _'Please report to my office immediately following breakfast. You will be excused from your morning class. ~Albus Dumbledore P.S. I enjoy Whizzing Whizbies.'_

"What's he want you for?" Lee asked and I shook my head.

"I don't know." I mentally searched for any out of place action that would have caught Dumbledore's attention, but lately, most everything noteworthy had been done with the boys and they didn't have summons. The twins were grinning at each other again and I narrowed my eyes at them. "You two don't know what it's about, do you?"

"Of course not."

"How could we?" Liars. "Maybe he's ending your detentions with Snape," George suggested. I thought that had to be it. At least I couldn't think of anything else that made sense.

"Yeah, maybe," I sighed, rereading the note. I looked back up to the head table, but the headmaster wasn't there anymore. He was exiting through a small side door only the teachers used. On the Map, it lead to a concealed chamber which exited into a hallway we never had occasion to use. I wasn't much interested in my food anymore, especially thanks to the owl's invasion onto my plate, so I just sat there until the boys stood to leave for class, my mind a million miles away.

I found myself at the griffin statue that guarded the headmaster's office a few short minutes later, though I didn't really remember how. "Whizzing Whizbies," I stuttered at the griffin. He raised his eyebrow at me, but allowed me to pass. When I knocked on Dumbledore's door, I was quickly greeted with a "Come in." I pushed open the door and found Dumbledore at his desk, shuffling between papers. "Ah, Skylar," he smiled. "Thank you for joining me. I'm afraid Professor Snape was unable to join us, I hope you do not mind."

"Of course not," I said quickly, sure now that George had been right and my detentions were over. He gestured for me to take the chair in front of his desk and I did quickly, looking forward to the result of this conversation.

"Well, Skylar," he said with a pleasant smile. He looked happier than he should for releasing me from detentions, but then again, this was Dumbledore, a bit nuts so I didn't put too much store by it. "If you'll remember, I said you would be staying at Ottery St. Catchpole's Home for Children until an alternative could be found." I was confused. This meeting had nothing to do with my detentions I realized with a sigh and returned my attention to the old man before me. I figured now that the Cliffords had complained about me and he had decided to move me to another orphanage.

"Yes, sir," I slouched in my chair.

"An alternative has been found, one I think you will be quite pleased with." I sensed a drumroll in the way he paused and I couldn't help the curiousness that peaked.

"Where?" I asked.

"Where? You don't ask who?" he asked with an indulging smile before answering my question. "The family who has asked to be allowed to take you in lives actually quite near to the location of the Home you spent last summer in. Their home is on the outskirts of Ottery, out of the way of the muggles." I was openly gaping at him. Looking back, I probably looked like a fish.

"A family?" I asked when I found my voice. "A _family_ offered to take me?"

"Not only offered, but asked for you specifically."

"Why? Who?" I sat at attention, back straight and eyes wide. He smiled again and I sensed a second, longer and louder drumroll.

"Can't you guess?" he asked. "The Weasley family."

"Thank you! Thank you!" Dumbledore had apparently had them released from their class too so the twins were waiting for me in the hall when I left his office. I launched myself, hugging first George then Fred. I blinked, embarrassed when I realized I was leaking tears. They laughed, not at me, but simply in that happy way that seemed to burst through them. Fred swung me in a circle when I hugged him and I couldn't hold in my own laugh. "I don't know how…." How to thank you, how you did this, how you could do this. All these and more could have finished the thought, but none seemed right.

"Well, we weren't going to let you go back to that dreary place," George said.

"And we couldn't send you to unknown distances either," Fred added.

"So we wrote mum and dad—"

"—to see what they thought—"

"—and we all agreed that this was best," they finished together. I would never understand how these two had just made me a part of their lives and kept pulling me closer, seemingly fixing all my problems, but I was unspeakably grateful just the same.

"Thank you." We ended up in the kitchen as we so often did, sipping the tea the elves brought us.

"So what all did Dumbledore say?"

"He said your mum and dad asked to take me in. It's not a legal adoption, more like a foster family so the school is still going to be paying for most of my expenses." They waved that off like money didn't matter even though I knew their family was low on funds and high on expenses.

"What else?"

"He said that your parents are coming to Hogsmeade on the next Hogsmeade weekend and that I'll be going down with you two to meet them before Dumbledore lets anything be finalized, but it's mostly formality. He says he knows I'll love them."

"Course you will," Fred laughed. "I don't know anyone who doesn't love mum and dad's harmless." I smiled again, knowing they were right.

"So we won't be leaving you with the Map this time?" George smirked. I had snuck into Hogsmeade without the twins at my side three times and on my own once.

"Nope," I said happily. "This time, _you're_ taking me." The next and last Hogsmeade weekend of the school year was scheduled for the weekend before Easter holidays and this time, I would be riding down, legally, to go meet the people who had offered me something my own parents wouldn't: a home.

I was shifting awkwardly, looking at myself in the mirror, trying to see every angle. My hair had dried hectically the night before and I couldn't figure out how to tame it. Finally I left it; at the very least, the way the curls caught the light today made it look more gold than usual. I hadn't been able to sleep well the previous night either and I had dark circles under my eyes. I snitched some of the makeup Tatiana perpetually left in the bathroom and tried to cover the purple spots. My nervousness left me paler than normal which only made my eyes look darker, something I was fine with. They were a dark blue and I liked to show them off when I could. I bit my lip again, tasting blood as I reopened the spot I had already split three days earlier. I wore muggle clothes, knowing I would be one of the few to do so, but besides my school robes, it was all I had besides maybe Arthur would be intrigued. The twins said he was muggle crazy. I pulled at my shirt one last time, wishing I was thinner or taller or more graceful.

I found myself so distracted at breakfast that I finally gave up when I spilled milk for the second time and simply nibbled on toast, eating four pieces without realizing it. "Are you okay?" Justin leaned over to ask me. They knew what I was doing today and had mixed feelings about it. On the one hand, they were all for me not calling an orphanage home. On the other, they weren't happy for me to be living in a house of Gryffindors, let alone _Weasleys_. I gulped, not answering Justin's concerned question. When breakfast was adjourned, the rest of the first and second years scattered while I joined those third year and up who were heading Hogsmeade. We lined up in front of the Entrance Hall doors, everyone fidgeting and ready to go.

"Hey there!" I heard from behind me. For the first time since they had been trying to scare me, beginning six months ago, I jumped. They laughed and congratulating one another while I grimaced a smile. "Are you okay?" George asked about the pained look on my face.

"You look like you're going to vomit," Lee added helpfully. I _felt_ like I was going to vomit. I had never wanted to impress someone so much as I wanted to impress the Weasleys today. "What's up?" Lee asked seriously. I opened my mouth to answer, but we were next in line to be checked off Filch's list.

"Oi, there," he growled pointing to me. "Yer not a third year!" I silently handed him my pass from Dumbledore, no sarcastic retort ready on my lips. He stood there for a full minute, studying the pass for counterfeit before Fred lost his temper.

"She's on your bloody list, Filch," he snapped.

"Watch yer language, boy," the cranky old caretaker hacked. I heard a few people behind us curse Filch while a few others snickered, but we ignored them all. Filch angrily checked his list, and, upon seeing that my name was indeed there, finally waved us through with a glare.

"Now, really," George said when we left the castle. "What's wrong?"

"Your mum thinks I'm _sweet_ ," I moaned, referring to her letter from Christmas time.

"So?" Fred demanded.

"I'm not sweet." Even these guys had thought I was sweet when they first met me, a common mistake, but that opinion had changed almost immediately. "What they don't want me when they realize that?" All three of the boys chuckled and Fred and George each threw an arm around my shoulders.

"They'll think you're great regardless," George tried to sooth.

"And then we'll have two little sisters!" Fred laughed.

"Ugh," Lee groaned with disgust. "Are you sure you want to move in with seven men?" he teased.

"You make me sound like Snow White," I complained, feeling more like myself and not liking the idea of being compared with one of the more helpless of the princesses.

"Who?" Fred asked, his brow furrowed.

"Never mind," I waved off the question.

"Well," Fred said, a weird look still on me about the whole Snow White thing, "there's only five of us living at home now. Of the males, I mean."

"So the girlies will _almost_ balance us out," George teased.

"No we won't," I argued, "unless y'all are planning on taking on a couple more girls." I raised an eyebrow at them.

"Nope," Fred smiled. "You're the only one for us!" I laughed at them, not realizing we had reached our destination until George held the door open for me. It was a tea shop I had never stepped foot in—to be honest, I had never been in a tea shop before seeing as they were specifically British things. The tea shop I had noticed was most common for Hogwarts students was Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop; it was pink and frilly and covered in lace, definitely not my kind of place. This one though was more mature, less lovey-dovey and altogether less vomit-inducing. Which isn't to say that I wasn't once again feeling like vomiting. The twins scanned the room before leading me to a table on the left. There was a tea service and little sandwiches on the table, but I barely noticed in that moment. I was too busy looking at the woman who sat at the table. She was plump and matronly with the red hair the twins shared with Percy, Ron and, as I had heard plenty of times, the rest of the Weasley brood. As soon as she looked up at us, she smiled widely, one of the most welcoming sights I had ever seen. Even still, I was glad the twins still had their arms because my once again shaking legs were unable to carry me forward on their own.

When we finally reached the table, a journey which simultaneously took a blink and a lifetime, the both released me in order to hug their mum and each give her a kiss on the cheek. "Morning, mum."

"You look lovely this fine day."

"Absolutely gorgeous."

"Isn't dad here yet?" She eyed them shrewdly in the way only a mother could.

"What have you two been up to?" she asked suspiciously and I almost laughed. I might have were I not frozen in place.

"Why mum, we're insulted!"

"Why would you suspect us of hooliganary?" This time, I did react.

" _Hooliganary?_ " I asked skeptically. "I don't think that's a word."

"Of course it is!"

"It comes between 'homaging' and 'Houston' in the dictionary." I rolled my eyes at them, yet again, only for my gaze to fall on Molly Weasley. She looked like she was measuring me up when I made eye contact though there was no harshness in her gaze.

"You must be Skylar," she said.

"Yes, ma'am," I said, still shaky.

"Oh, call me Molly," she smiled at me, waving away all the formality. I smiled at her, feeling shy.

"It's nice to meet you, Molly," I said.

"And it's lovely to meet you, Skylar dear." She came to me and pulled me into the warmest hug I had had in ages. I held on tightly, not quite believing that this was reality. She patted my back and I realized that my eyes stung with tears. I blinked rapidly before letting go. She patted my cheek gently. "Shall we sit?" she asked after a moment and I nodded quickly, ignoring the look the twins were passing back and forth.

We sat, sipping tea, eating sandwiches and making small talk. Molly asked me what I was interested in (books and fun), what classes I liked best (anything except History of Magic), if I liked being Slytherin (an enthusiastically smirked yes), what I wanted to be when I grew up (why would I want to do that), what I did in my free time (either help the twins to get into trouble or help them get out of it), if I liked England (sure, the accents were great and the tea was killer), what I missed about America (the food—you could get anything anywhere) and on and on. When the twins and I had eaten through all the finger sandwiches, the waitress came out and replaced them with tiny cakes which we made quick work of as well.

"Boys," Molly said when all the food was gone and the tea had gotten cold. "Would you mind running a few errands for me?" They looked at me and I knew they hear the same subtext I did: _I'd like to talk to Skylar alone_. The twins silently asked me if this was okay and I nodded.

"Of course, Mum," George said easily as if they hadn't just asked me for permission first. Molly apparently didn't miss much and she tried to hide a small smile. She handed them a list and a small bag that clanked of money making them promise to save all the receipts bring back all the change and meet us back in front of the train station in no more than an hour and a half.

"They care for you very much," she told me and I blushed.

"I know. They're very good to me, better than I deserve."

"Oh, I doubt that very much," she smiled. "I'm sure you deserve every drop of kindness those boys have. And they have quite a lot, even if they don't always show it." She looked fondly in the direction they had gone.

"They do," I argued. "Show it, I mean. Sure, they like to prank and have fun, but they're never bullies. They only target people who won't be overly offended or who _really_ deserve it." I smiled reminiscing about the first revenge scheme they had helped me with and the countless we had launched since then. "Despite their frequent detentions." I grinned, "they really are very good boys."

She smiled in recognition of the fact before turning it back to me again. "I hear their detentions pale in comparison to yours already," she smiled. "How many are you up to already?"

"Thirty-five," I admitted sheepishly. They really added up when they were weekly in addition to regular detentions. She laughed as she stood and gathered a few bags around her. I hurried to stand too and took two of the bags from her, refusing to be useless.

"Thank you," she said. "Perhaps I should be more concerned with that number, but it's just too absurd," she laughed and I wondered if she had a mischievous streak too. "What could you possibly have done to earn that earn that many in six months?"

"I ticked off Snape. Dumbledore is the one who gave me the detentions though."

"Detentions for life with Professor Snape?" she asked in shock. "What did you do?" I could see her mother instincts ask if the troublemaker walking next to her was too dangerous to bring into her home with her children.

"I'm actually not allowed to say," I winced. That really did sound bad. "But, I'm sure Dumbledore will explain everything if you need," I added quickly. She nodded a little uncertainly to herself as we walked quietly along.

"I'm sorry Arthur couldn't make it," she apologized. "An emergency came up at work." She had mentioned this earlier, but Fred had turned the conversation before I could really respond.

"It's not a problem," I smiled quickly. "He works for the Ministry, right? With muggle things?"

"Yes." Her tone was a mix of fondness and exasperation and I wondered if she was exasperated with _me_. I was so tempted to try Legitimacy again, just a peak, to know what exactly would get me firmly into her good graces. But I hadn't used Legitimacy in months, not since that day in potions and I doubted it would work. Besides, if Dumbledore caught wind of it, I would get in so much trouble. "He does so like his gadgets. In fact, I should warn you: when you meet him this summer, he will interrogate you quite soundly on anything he can thin of." I was fervently happy to answer any questions the man had; Molly had just confirmed that despite my possibly criminal behavior, she still planned for me to be there this summer. That information put me on a bubbly high for the rest of our hour.

At one point, I took my one galleon and a sickle I had found on the ground and asked Molly if I could duck into Zonko's. The twins' birthday was coming up and I had to get them _something_. I couldn't afford much of course, but a picked up a stash of dungbombs and Sparkers, a product similar to those little poppers we had in the muggle world, but gave these gave a louder bang and some interesting pyrotechnics.

With our bags, we headed toward the train station with ten minutes to spare. The twins ran up, out of breath fifteen minutes later. "You're late," Molly accused sternly.

"Sorry, Mum," Fred grinned unrepentantly.

"We got distracted," George explained, also grinning.

"Of course you did," she sighed. "Thank you for getting those for me," she added, motioning to the bags they carried.

"Think nothing of it," Fred said grandly. Molly shook her head indulgently at her boys. She checked the clock on the wall and sighed.

"I promised Ginny that I would be home by lunch time. I've got to go now." She passed George a parcel, made him promise to share with Ron and Percy and after a round of hugs and goodbyes, apparated away. I took a very deep breath for the first time since I had seen Molly Weasley.

"What's in bag?" Fred poked as we started back up to the castle. I ran around my head for an excuse to keep them out of the Zonko's bag.

"Girl stuff," I said shortly, enjoying the way they flinched away from the bag question. I rolled my eyes. Most students were still milling around the shops, but my pass expired at one o' clock. I could always sneak back, but the transit wasn't worth it. Besides, I was out of money.

"So, what do you think?" George asked. "You still want to spend an _entire_ summer with our family?"

"Five whole summers," Fred corrected happily.

"Fine," George reached around me to shove his brother. "Are you sure you want to spend five whole summers with our loony family?" I walked between them, looking back and forth between the two. They were grinning like idiots, their hair and robes mussed, Fed had dirt on his face, and George's shoes were all scuffed. They were my two favorite people in the world.

"Can't think of anywhere else in the world I'd rather be," I said. The words were true, but I made my tone light and teasing.

"Ah, Skylar," Fred responded in kind. "I'm touched."

"I think I might cry," George said. I laughed and stuck my tongue out at them as we mounted the stairs to the castle.

On the last morning before Easter holidays, I joined the Gryffindors for breakfast. As we ate and joked, I noticed McGonagall making her way down the table much like she had done before Christmas holidays when she was taking the names of those who planned to stay at Hogwarts. But the staff already had the names of those who was staying and who was going for these upcoming holidays. As I watched her over the rim of my mug, I noticed that she did not stop to talk to everyone, just clusters of kids here and there, though I couldn't see who from where I sat. She sighed when she came level with us and saw me sitting there.

"I suppose I should give you one of these as well, Miss French," she said, handing me a pamphlet of some sort. "But remember to report your decision to Professor Snape by the end of the holidays."

"Thanks, Professor," I said, not entirely sure what she was talking about. Lee leaned over to see what I held and seemed to recognize it immediately.

"You should take Care of Magical Creatures," he said, "Or Divination is easy and I bet you could pass Muggle Studies, no problem." Finally, I understood what was going on. The pamphlet outlined the different elective courses Hogwarts had which became available third year. The front of the pamphlet was very plain, much like the Hogwarts brochure Dumbledore had sent before all this happened had been. On the top, _Electives_ was elegantly printed and down the right side was a list of the offered courses: Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, Muggle Studies and the Study of Ancient Runes. Inside the brochure, a synopsis of each class was outlined along with a short list of careers associated with the subject.

Though the weeklong Easter Break, I studied the pamphlet forward and backward until I had it memorized, but I still couldn't make up my mind. The deadline of the end of Easter break passed, but still I studied the page, giving Snape no answer. My friends chose their classes: all of them were taking Care of Magical Creatures and Divination, claimed by everyone to be the easiest classes besides Muggle Studies. In addition, Isaac and Justin were taking Arithmancy while Joshua took Ancient Runes. But despite, and perhaps in part because of, the constant advice coming from everyone and their brother, I couldn't make up my mind. Nothing sounded interesting enough to bother with.

I had never liked math and I doubted magic math would be much better, so Arithmancy was out. The only animal I had ever had any actual fondness for was Gus, so Care of Magical Creatures was out. Revelation wasn't something I felt could be learned or forced, so Divination was out. I knew everything I needed to about the muggle world, so Muggle Studies was out. I knew my passing interest in ancient cultures wouldn't survive an in depth study, so Ancient Runes was out. Which left me _nowhere_. And that's why, during the first three classes after the return to classes, I learned nothing, still studying my now tattered pamphlet.

Finally, at the end of Transfiguration on the second day of classes, after everyone else had run out following her announcement of a large assignment of homework, I approached Professor McGonagall's desk. She looked up in surprise, not having heard me approach at first and I forced myself to remain calm under her stern gaze. "Yes, Miss French?" she inquired. "Can I help you with something?"

"I was kinda hoping so, ma'am," I said, holding up my tattered pamphlet. "See, I can't decide on any of the new classes; none of them interest me. I was wondering if maybe there were some more advanced core classes I could replace the electives with, perhaps."

"I believe the brochure states that a minimum of two electives are required," she said, studying me in that measuring way of hers.

"Oh," I said and let the silence hang awkwardly while waiting for her to change her mind. It was a tactic I had unconsciously found when I was younger. Make my blue eyes big and doe-like, look down slightly with my eyes still on the adult, wait five seconds. It almost always worked. I had used it on a few of the teachers here, but never on the stern Minerva McGonagall. I wondered if it would work. She sighed.

"With your past academic success in mind," she said, "I will speak to the headmaster about the issue and we will see if something can be done. Is that acceptable?"

"Yes, ma'am, thank you so much!" I tried to hide my triumph with the very real gratitude that was there.

"Very well. Now on your way," she nodded for me to leave. "Miss French?" she asked when I was almost out of the door.

"Yes?" Was she going to change her mind?

"Why did you come to me with this rather thango to your Head of House?" Because I knew perfectly well that Snape wouldn't go out of his way to help me, doe eyes or not. However, I couldn't tell her that, so I rolled around my mind looking for an excuse.

"I thought that as Deputy Headmistress, you would be more able to help me," I lied. I knew she saw right through me, but she nodded, wished me a good day and sent me on my way.

Word of my new summer plans spread fast, though why people cared about my home situation, I wasn't sure. Most people hadn't even known about it before, but now everyone knew both where I lived last summer and where I planned to live this summer. Some people pitied me for my parents kicking me out, some people mocked me for it. Some people congratulated me for finding a family to take me in, some people told me that living with the Weasleys was worse than being homeless. I tried to ignore all the comments—it wasn't any of their business—but there was one attack I could quite ignore, despite my best intentions.

I hadn't seen the Cliffords much, certainly hadn't talked to them at all. While we saw each other in the halls or Great Hall occasionally, we ignored one another as thoroughly as we could. But when word spread, something I would never have anticipated occurred: the Cliffords approached me.

I was walking alone one afternoon. The twins and Lee were in class, Isaac, Terence, Joshua and Justin were working on an extra-credit potions project so I was enjoying the rare peace and quiet. They were waiting for me on the stairway to the library. Seeing the offended and threatening expressions on their faces, I cursed myself for too predictable. Of course angry people looking for me would look in the library, then block the entrance if I wasn't already in there. I wondered as I kept walking if there was a secret passage into the library that wasn't marked on the map. From their occasionally annoying little comments, it didn't sound to me like Messrs. Mooney, Wormtail, Padfoot or Prongs were big library goers and the twins certainly weren't, unless it was pranking related, so maybe there was one and we just didn't know about it.

"French," Paige greeted coolly. I watched them warily, but didn't answer. "We've been waiting for you," she said.

"I can see that."

"Word is you've tricked the Weasleys into giving you a new home." Paige sneered. I didn't like that she stood a few steps above me, giving her the higher ground. Not only did it make me uncomfortable in terms of a fight, but it irked me that she could look down her nose like that at me. Angrily, I stomped up until I stood at the landing with them; though I was still shorter, at least I wasn't craning my neck to look at them.

"I didn't trick anyone," I told them. "They offered."

"Yeah, right!" Mason growled. His brows were furrowed and the way he leaned forward suggested attack. "You think you're better than us, don't you?" _Yes_ , I thought silently, but I didn't have to be Ravenclaw to know that telling them that would be very, very stupid.

"Of course not," I said instead. "I just got lucky."

"Liar," Paige hissed. _True._ She stalked the last few steps toward me so that I really had to bend my neck back to keep looking her in the eye. I thought vaguely of the ridiculousness of a sixth year and a fourth year ganging up on a second year. Mostly though, I was irritated. Who did they think they were? They didn't control me! And what, did they expect me to write Molly and Arthur Weasley a polite 'No thanks' just because they hadn't been picked up too? That wasn't how the world worked. I raised my chin in defiance.

"You stupid Yankee Mudblood," she hissed. "You're an arrogant little brat!"

"You don't deserve a family!" Mason yelled. Before I could respond in any way, McGonagall rounded the corner, drawn in, I assume, by the yelling.

"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded and Paige quickly stepped away from me, her hands still fisted at her sides.

"Nothing, Professor," Mason mumbled at the floor. McGonagall's lips were pressed together into a thin, white line.

"Miss French?" she turned to me.

"Yes, Professor?" I asked innocently, not answering the unasked question. She sighed at me in exasperation.

"What is happening here, Miss French?" she asked, more specific than before.

"The Cliffords are rather upset with me."

"What for?" she asked, looking at them. They didn't answer though, they just kept staring at the floor, occasionally glaring at me out of the corners of their eyes. Full of exasperation, McGonagall turned to me again and demanded, "Why are they upset with you?"

"I think their feelings are hurt that I'm not returning to the Home with them," I said piously. McGonagall narrowed her eyes at me while the Cliffords glared at me openly.

"Well, then," McGonagall said when neither of the Cliffords contradicted me. "That is no excuse to harass another student, especially someone several years younger than yourself, Miss Clifford." I took perverse pleasure in watching Paige blush. "Five points will be taken from Ravenclaw for each of you," another stab of pleasure, "and I suggest you all disperse." They nodded without a word to McGonagall, pushing past me as they headed down the stairs.

"Yankee mudblood," Paige hissed as she passed. I watched them clod down the stairs, finally the one on the higher ground.

"A moment, Miss French?" McGonagall asked, breaking my simmering focus on the retreating siblings. I looked back to McGonagall who was regarding me with cool curiosity.

"Yes, ma'am?" I asked, distractedly glancing back down the stairs, but they were already gone.

"I have spoken with the headmaster about your classes for next term," she informed me and it took me a moment to recall what she was talking about. When the recognition finally set in, I looked into her face hopefully, hoping it would give me some clue as to Dumbledore's decision. "He suggested that you serve as a teaching aide for different professors, if that would be acceptable to you."

"Yes, thank you, ma'am," I said, nodding furiously.

"You will serve with a different professor each year, and as you requested, you will become very familiar with each subject's material, even for the years above you. You'll begin as my aide in a probationary period." I nodded again, murmured another thank you before she sent me on my way.

"Thank you," I added one last time before heading into the library, the words _'Yankee Mudblood'_ ringing in my ears again after the momentary distraction. I sat down with a book, but I couldn't seem to absorb any of the words on the page. Every single page seemed to be filled with a never-ending pattern of _'Yankee Mudblood'_ and I didn't know why. They didn't hurt me, but they just wouldn't stop. It was like a never ending drumbeat.

 _Yankee mudblood. Yan-kee mud-blood. Dum-dum dum-dum. Yankee mudblood. Yankee mudblood. Yankee mudblood. Yankee mudblood. Yankee mudblood. Yankee mudblood. Yankee mudblood. Yankee mudblood. Yankee mudblood. Yankee mudblood. Yankee mudblood. Yankee mudblood Yankee mudblood Yankee mudblood Yankee mudblood Yankee mudblood Yankee mudblood Yankee mudblood Yankee mudblood Yankee mudblood Yankee mudblood Yankeemudblood Yankeemudblood Yankeemudblood Yankeemudblood Yankeemudblood Yankeemudblood Yankeemudblood Yankeemudblood Yankeemudblood Yankeemudblood yankeemudbloodyankeemudbloodyankeemudbloodyankeemudbloodyankeemudblood yankeemudbloodyankeemudbloodyankeemudbloodyankeemudbloodyankeemudblood_ on and on and on.

I jumped when the bell rang for the next class period. Jumping to put my book away and running off, I swore when I realized I had forgotten my bag in the library. I was already almost to my class and I stood there in the hall, stalk still, debating with myself whether it was worth it to run back for my bag and books or if I should just share a book with Isaac or Terence. As I stood there thinking, I hear a voice call out over the din of the emptying hallway. "Yankee mudblood!" I wondered for a moment if my mind was playing tricks on me and I looked around to see if anyone else had heard it too. A group of Ravenclaw girls was looking at me. Some were sneering and snickering while others just glared moodily. I glared at them as they passed which left me still standing in the hall when the bell rang. Deciding to get my bag later, I slipped into DADA, going unnoticed as Quirrell still appeared to be working up the courage to start class. I slipped in next to Isaac, taking a deep breath.

"What's up?" he asked. "Where's your bag?" I shook my head at him as Quirrell finally stepped up to teach us about "d-d-def-defensive sh-shields."

Halfway through the lesson, a folded piece of parchment while we sat doing silent reading, Quirrell sitting at his desk and twitching. I was sharing a book with Isaac and he looked at the note questioningly. "What is it?" he whispered. I glanced up at Quirrell who hadn't noticed before unfolding the note, knowing the content before it was revealed: _Yankee Mudblood._

"What the he—" I kicked Isaac before he could draw attention to us. No luck.

"Y-y-yes, Mr. W-Willworth?"

"Nothing, Professor," Isaac grumbled from next to me, glaring around at the snickering students around us.

"B-back to reading then, e-everyone." I could feel Isaac looking at me, Terence, Justin and Joshua looking over too, but I ignored them all. When the bell rang, I got up quickly, spitting out the excuse that I was going to get my bag from the library and thinking hard as I ran out before they could stop me.


	16. Respond

"Move, Gus," I sighed, lifting him by his middle and setting him on the floor. He regarded me curiously before jumping right back up onto my bed, strolling through the messy covers I rarely bothered to straighten, and settling himself back on the robes I had been planning to wear. I owned three sets of school robes and three sets of casual robes, all of which I hated wearing. Robes felt to me like giant, loose, night shirts. You pulled them on over your head and didn't wear any other clothes under them. They felt too airy and swishy and I was constantly wary of a stray gust of wind. However, robes were dress code and being caught outside your house common room in something other than robes resulted in docked points and detention. In Slytherin, being caught in the common room in something other than wizarding robes, anything that could be considered _muggle_ immediately resulted in lost points. I hated it with a passion. And that was why I was standing here, staring at my school robes, and debating potential value versus risk.

The term 'Yankee mudblood' had spread like wildfire across the school and there was only one person it could accurately be directed towards. In a way, they had it right too. I was muggleborn and I had never tried to hide the fact that I was American. In fact, I had grown to be quite proud of my status as both the only American in the school and the only muggleborn Slytherin in recent history. As a significant percentage of the school suddenly delighted in attacking both of these things, I felt an odd obligation to stand up for the labels. And that was why I was still standing in my sweats despite the fact that Tatiana and Lucile had already left and I usually went down to breakfast long before them. I was building up my courage to do something potentially stupid and very much against the rules. With a sigh, I raised my wand and went to work.

By the time I was done, one set of my school robes now resembled a very long jacket that hung open in the front. My spelled sewing might not look as clean as professional work, but it also didn't look out of place on my already shabby robes. I changed quickly into blue jeans and a dark gray t-shirt. Throwing my bag over my shoulder and taking a deep breath, I went up to breakfast.

I marched up the stairs and into the Great Hall trying not to feel, or at least act, self-conscious. I heard the whispers spread as I walked through, my new nickname loudest among them. I looked toward the Gryffindor table longingly, making eye contact with and nodding to Lee, but turning and walking in the opposite direction as he nudged the arguing twins. I knew the backlash would be softer at Gryffindor table; in fact, I would probably be encouraged. However, I was making a statement which meant I couldn't do it halfway.

I sat down on Justin's left, my friends al staring at my uniform's alterations. "You're going to get in so much trouble for this one," Justin said flatly.

"Probably," I agreed as I pealed the paper cup off a muffin. I was under no illusions that the teachers and staff would go along with this, but it was a risk I was willing to take.

"You're going to lose Slytherin so many points," Terence glared at me angrily. "We can't afford that after the last game!"

"Then that lot," I nodded to the rest of the Slytherins, "shouldn't have picked up Clifford's slur." Terence didn't argue with me, I was right after all and he knew it, but he did continue to glare at me. Justin, Isaac and Joshua just sighed and didn't bother to argue. They knew I was too stubborn.

"Here we go," Isaac whispered in warning only a moment later and we all turned to see Audrey gliding toward me, fury on her elegant face.

"What in Merlin's name are you wearing?" she demanded. I didn't answer, a challenge in itself. "I asked you a question, French!"

"Which I deemed was unnecessary to answer," I said, turning back to my muffin.

"Ten points from Slytherin," she snapped. "For immodesty, robe mutilation, and back talking a prefect." She hissed the last offense as if it were the worst of the lot. I heard Terence growl from across the table while Isaac sighed next to him, Justin groaned from next to me and Joshua could be heard viscously stabbing his eggs. "Dress yourself properly," she snarled. " _Now._ " She clipped away and I looked up at the boys, all of whom were shooting me _I-told-you-so_ looks.

"It could have been worse," I shrugged, snickering when they all chucked bits of breakfast at me.

It got worse. Over the next two weeks, I earned nine more detentions, at least one from every teacher besides Binns, who didn't notice; McGonagall gave me three, Sprout gave me two. I also lost a cumulative eighty-five points from teachers, prefects and heads. Needless to say, I was not popular in my own house. However, in every other house, most people were congratulating me, well the ones that weren't snarling at me. _Yankee mudblood_ was still a constant around me. The words were shot from every turn in the corridor, from every couch in the common room, from every plate in the Great Hall. Ninety percent of the Slytherins liked to hiss it as I passed, seventy-five percent of the Ravenclaws squawked it when I walked by, even a few Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors liked it.

My Slytherin boys reacted as much as I did when it was called out, which is to say, we ignored it. I kept wearing my muggle clothes and open robes, amassing detentions and losing points, but we didn't vocally or physically respond when the words were said. My Gryffindor boys, on the other hand, got into a spree of fistfights and even more revenge plots, generally involving the dungbombs I had gifted them. They generally ended up in detention with me. The teachers were getting frustrated and were running out of ideas for me. Finally, at Filch's request, they gave us crates of old files to transcribe. Some were attendance records, some were detention records, some were awards for services rendered to the school. McGonagall and Snape, the ones who generally oversaw our detentions told us that these would show us the consequences of our actions. It was mindless work and their idea that we would learn a lesson from older and passed delinquents never sunk in. Eventually, the teachers decided they had better things to do with their evenings than overseeing my detentions every evening, the twins joining me every other evening, and stopped punishing me for my 'mutilated robes'. When the other students saw I wasn't getting in trouble anymore and I didn't change my robes, they stopped using the slur, the twins stopped getting into fights and everything seemed to calm down.

One thing did stick though. The twins took the Cliffords original nickname and kept it. You see, the funny bit about the whole school adopting the insult, was that most of them had no idea what the first part meant. The Cliffords had been raised in a muggle orphanage and had attended a muggle school; they had learned about the American colonies and our separation. However, most of the kids who attended Hogwarts were halfbloods or more and had been raised wizard; they didn't know specifics about America's separation or what exactly 'Yankee' meant. The twins made me explain the word to them, which of course led to an embarrassed, but lively rendition of Yankee Doodle. After making me sing every verse of the song I could remember, a surprising number actually, the twins decided that 'Yankee' was a perfectly fine name. Eventually, people all over the school caught on to the new name and the second part of the name was, for the most part, forgotten. Flickwit even accidently called me 'Yankee' once or twice during class, blushing furiously and twittering each time. Once again, attention turned away, and once again, the school turned as one to the Quidditch pitch.

The Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff game was coming up and while it wasn't as big as the first match of the year, Gryffindor versus Slytherin game, it was big, especially when a little extra spice was thrown in. The Gryffindor team came in one Wednesday evening raging after practice, all of them talking over one another, nothing actually discernable.

"What is going on?" Lee yelled over them all. We had been studying, waiting for the twins to show up. The whole team was still arguing and now the majority, Wood and all the girls, were glaring at me for some reason. That was normal behavior for Wood of course, but Katie, Angelina, and Alicia were usually very friendly towards me. I shrunk back a few inches under their glares.

"Snape is referring the match!"

"What?" As far as I knew, Snape had no interest in Quidditch past how it affected house points.

"Professor Snape will be referring the match against Hufflepuff," Wood growled at me and I scowled back.

"I heard you, Wood. Why?" The yelling returned in full force and I rolled my eyes at the loud Gryffindors, turning back to my book and pretending to ignore them until they calmed down. Unfortunately, as the rest of the Gryffindors overheard, they got just as riled up until the whole common room was loud and pissed. I looked around to see if _anyone_ in the whole house was reacting rationally, and seeing only Ron, Harry and Hermione unaffected, surprising seeing as Harry was on the team. But they were all huddled around a fat book looking very excited for some reason. I pressed my hands over my ears with a pointed look at the twins, but they ignored me. _This is ridiculous_ , I thought. It was another ten minutes until people calmed down.

"So," I asked when the team finally collapsed around us, sour expressions for all. "Why is Snape referring the game?"

"To skew the game against us!" I thought about arguing this flawed logic, but I decided to avoid another outburst of house-wide hysteria. Because yes, Snape might hate Gryffindor, but if he really just wanted to make them lose, he would have refereed other matches too, which he hadn't. But I let them have their fury if they liked it.

I stepped into detention the next night to find Snape at his desk, grading papers. "Professor?"

"Come in," he gestured me closer without looking up. "You'll be making a sleeping draught this evening," he informed me. "You may leave when you are finished." I nodded, going to the work station he already had set up, but was surprised when I looked at the instructions in the book. This wasn't a first or second year potion, the levels he usually had me make, this was a third year potion. Not a difficult one, but still, I was surprised. I gathered my ingredients and began my preparations. As I worked, I listened and when I heard Snape slide the pile of graded essays away, I spoke up, something I never did in these detentions.

"Sir, the Gryffindors say you are refereeing the game on Saturday."

"Do they?" He sounded bored and I chewed my lip before continuing.

"Yes, sir. I was just wondering if you actually are." He sighed, impatient with me already.

"Though I have no idea what it has to do with that Sleeping Draught, I am, unfortunately, overseeing the match. Finish your potion." His words were more clipped than usual and I bit my lip again before ignoring his obvious desire for silence and asking one more question.

"Why are you refereeing the game?" I listened as hard as I could, wishing once again for legitimacy. Because I was listening so carefully, I heard the falsehood.

"Because Madam Hooch asked for a day of leave to visit her sick mother and the Headmaster asked me to take her place at the game. Now, _finish your work_." I nodded without answering, turning back to the cauldron. My mind though, was still on the brief conversation. I could tell that he was lying about something, but I couldn't tell about what exactly and that irked me to no end. I kept replaying his words in my mind and tried to find the exact word that had prompted the doubt, but I couldn't figure it out. Even later that night, while I laid there in my bed with Gus crawling around my feet, playing with my toes, I couldn't figure it out.

When the Slytherins found out Snape was refereeing the game, they were ecstatic. We may have been out of the running to win, but if Snape could put Gryffindor out of the running, it would almost be as good as winning ourselves. Saturday dawned and all the Slytherins came out to watch Snape punish Gryffindor. When the teams marched out onto the pitch, the Gryffindors looked rather terrified while the Hufflepuffs looked unusually sly. Snape didn't look too especially happy.

"And they're off!" Lee announced as the teams lifted off. Gryffindor took the quaffle immediately and as they raced down the field passing the quaffle back and forth, the Hufflepuff chasers dove at them in an arrow formation. George shot a passing bludgers towards them and grinned widely when the bludger shot right over Snape's shoulder, making the potions master flinch and swerve in response. From the way George grinned, I was pretty sure he wouldn't have frowned even if the bludgers had hit Snape in the face. Snape appropriately awarded Hufflepuff a penalty shot and Slytherins cheered just as loudly, if not louder, as the Hufflepuffs while the Gryffindors booed. The Hufflepuffs took their shot, earning themselves ten points. As they retook the quaffle, Fred shot a bludger at the Hufflepuff Chaser carrying the quaffle while Harry went into an incredible dive. Rumor was, diving was his specialty, if an eleven year old, first-year player could have a specialty. The twins told me that he had gotten the seeker spot when McGonagall saw him catch a Remembrall out of a similar dive during his first flying lesson. The Gryffindors were cheering, the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins were swearing and Snape turned with alarm as Harry shot right by him. At last second, only a few feet above the ground, he pulled up, the golden snitch held high in his hand and all hell broke loose in the crowd.

Gryffindors spilled onto the pitch, all surrounding the team which had already piled around Harry. Hufflepuffs and Slytherins stomped out of the stands and back into the castle, all grumbling together. I stayed where I was for several minutes, laughing at the turmoil from my little bubble. By the time I finally let myself onto the field, Fred and George had lifted Harry onto their shoulders and were marching around the pitch. I sat there on the edge of the cheering Gryffindors. I didn't blame them; only one more win and they would win the Quidditch Cup, something they hadn't done in years. Harry looked absurdly happy as they passed him around, Ron, with a suspiciously bloody nose, and Hermione following behind, hopping and cheering. Wood collapsed on the ground finally, grinning ear to ear with victory, waving away his friends who went to help him up. He sat there, content as he braced himself with his hands behind him. I decided to take the risk of ruining his mood to congratulate him since I couldn't see the rest of the team in the crowd.

I was surprised when he was still smiling when he saw me approach. "Good job," I told him and he grinned wider, if that was possible.

"Thanks," he said, pride in his voice. "We had a good team last year, but Harry…." He trailed off as if Harry were the best present he could ever think of receiving. The seeker was the most important player on a team, at least the player most likely to make a significant difference.

"You're a good captain," I told him. "If you weren't, your team might be good, but they wouldn't be as spectacular as they are." He looked at me in surprise and I wondered why. It was obvious to anyone willing to accept the fact that the Gryffindor team was the best team in the school. However, very few people outside Gryffindor would admit such a thing. Even I would never admit that to the twins except under duress.

I started to step away when he called out, "Are you going to be at the party tonight, Yankee?"

"Probably," I grinned back at him. I waved and headed towards the twins who had released Harry and were dancing with Angelina and Katie. "Hey-o," I greeted only to be choked off as a laughing Fred picked me up and spun me around. "Gack," I croaked, "put me down Forge!" He laughed again before setting me on my feet. "I hear there's a party tonight," I said when I could breathe again.

"Of course!" George said. "In fact, we had better go get ready for that. We'll meet you outside the locker room in five minutes." He and George dashed away, getting stopped only a few steps later by a few congratulating students. The girls were quickly pulled away by friends and Lee was off celebrating with a few others. Left alone, I headed towards the castle and leaned against the wall opposite the team's changing rooms. They were twenty minutes late, but that's to be expected when you're as popular as they were, especially after a great win.

"Come on, Yankee," Fred sang when they finally came out. "Let's get this party the good stuff."


	17. What One Learns in the Hospital Wing

A/N: I've revised chapter 15 a bit. I forgot to have Skylar chose next year's classes so I added back in. While you will still be able to understand the story without it, I of course recommend you go back two chapters and check it out. Anyways, back to reading.

* * *

May passed calmly enough. The twins found out from their mother who found out from some forms the school sent her that my birthday was May 3rd so, with help from the Most Helpful House Elves of Hogwarts, they threw me a little party in the Gryffindor common room, complete with cake, ice cream and butterbeer.

Aside from that though, they really didn't have the time to get into much mischief. For one, there was the all-important subject of Quidditch. The final game of the year (season as Fred, George and Terence kept insisting) was coming up and Wood was insisting on more and more practices. I didn't see the twins much and when I did, half the time they were trudging either to or from practice, reminding each other that Quidditch really was the best game around.

In addition to Quidditch, finals were coming up. As everyone hurried to study up on everything they hadn't deemed important enough during the year, stress ran rampant through the halls, spilling into the classrooms, library and any other nook or cranny it could find. Justin worked himself into a hissy fit near the end of the month and it took two calming draughts from Madam Pomfrey to settle him enough to get anything done. Personally, I preferred the twins' philosophy. They very logically explained that if we worked ourselves into a panic now, we wouldn't be able to be successful on our tests. "Besides," Fred told me with a smirk, "we know enough charms and transfiguration from all our _extracurricular_ learning that we'll pass, no problem." It worked for me. Besides, with as much as I helped Fred and George finish their homework on time, there was no way I would fail my far simpler tests.

Before we knew it, finals were upon us. I passed everything, though only just on History of Magic, and upon the completion of my last final, was content to spend a few listless hours out in the early summer sun. Isaac, Terence, Justin and Joshua joined me, all of us proud and positive that we had placed in the top ten percent of our class. After half an hour laying out in the warm sun, Joshua was reading, Justin and Terence had fallen asleep, and Isaac looked like he was on the edge of dreamland as well. I was about to doze off myself when I noticed Lee across the grounds with a few other students, a mix of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, tickling the Giant Squid's tentacles. The twins had told me they had one last final to finish and as I watched Lee laugh without them, the hairs on the back of my neck prickled with suspicion.

Muttering to the Joshua, the only one still awake, that I would be right back, I stood and made my way over the Lee, folding my arms across my chest when I reached the place he sat. "I thought you guys had a final," I accused. They very rarely hid things from me, and even more rarely lied to my face so I knew they were up to something.

"Er, it's for Muggle Studies," he claimed, citing the only class they took without Lee.

"But we took that final yesterday," a ditzy looking Hufflepuff said, not noticing the wide-eyed pleading Lee sent her way.

"Nice try," I told Lee. "What are they up to?" The kids around Lee shifted uncomfortably at my tone, but I kept my gaze unblinkingly on Lee.

"They're just setting something up," he said, relenting slightly and shrugging, trying to make the moment more casual. I didn't buy it. "They didn't think you'd be interested."

"Where are they?" I demanded with exasperation.

"Not sure exactly," he said glibly. "They could be anywhere right about now." I knew at this point that there was nothing I could do, short of hexing maybe, that would convince him to tell me everything. Growling, I retreated back to the castle to find my potentially idiotic friends and hopefully keep them out of major trouble. I didn't have the Map so as I stepped back indoors, I tried to think like they would, a scary thing to do, to figure out where they would go. It was the end of the year so they would want to do something big. Also, they hadn't told me about it which meant I wouldn't approve, strange since I was up for most anything. In fact, the only times I objected were times when one of us would inadvertently become the victims.

And there was my answer. I ran down to the dungeons, sure they were going to be pranking the Slytherins on our home turf. I burst into the common room, breathing hard, only to be snickered at by the Slytherins lounging around. Everything was perfectly normal which meant either the twins hadn't set the prank yet or I had guessed their target wrong. Blushing, I backed out of the common room and spun on my heel, wondering where the ginger idiots could possibly be. As I wandered back towards the staircase though, wondering where I would go next, I saw an inconsistency. Two not-completely-Disillusioned blobs were sneaking along the wall. When they rounded the corner, I followed them, creeping up behind them and poking each sharply with my wand performing two Finite Incantatem charms. "Oi!" Fred objected upon reappearing.

"What are you doing?" I demanded. Their expressions completely confessed to their guilt.

"Hey there, Yankee," George grinned at me with forced easiness. A bag hung from the strap on his shoulder and he casually pushed it behind his back and out of my sight.

"Fancy meeting you here," Fred added. "I thought you were hanging out with the Slytherin brats after your test."

"Don't call them that," I ordered, hands on my waist. "And anyways, I thought _you_ were finishing a final."

"Oh, yeah, er, it was a breeze!"

"Great, well then, let's go outside and enjoy the good weather," I sneered lightly, knowing they would get out of it.

"Sure," Fred grinned easily. "You go on ahead, we've got one little thing to drop off and we'll be right there." I hadn't realized where we were until Fred reached back and put his hand on a door knob, maintaining eye contact with me the whole time. "Run along, Skylar." I stared at them for just a moment, feeling absurdly like a cowboy in the Old West, hand twitching over my gun as we watched for the other's draw, ready to react. They flinched first. Fred twisted the knob violently and ran into Snape's office, George right on his heels. They pushed the door closed just as I hit it and I had to draw my hand back to avoid it being smashed.

"Open this door!" I demanded, banging on it with my fists. I heard the lock fall.

"Sorry, Skylar," someone called. I assumed it was George; Fred wasn't usually one to apologize. "We knew you wouldn't go along with this one."

"George, I need you over here," Fred called to his twin and I heard George step away from the door. I waited only a few more seconds before drawing my wand and waving it towards the bolt.

"Alohamorah," I whispered. I heard the lock lift, but stood listening for a moment to see if the twins had heard as well. When neither reacted, too busy talking, I turned the handle carefully before stepping in. Their backs were to me as they worked over the cauldron in the corner, the one Snape had lately had me brewing in for my detentions. "What are you two trying to do?" I demanded and they looked back at me, grinning like fools, before turning back to the cauldron.

"It's too dark in here," Fred said.

"We just want to brighten it up a bit," George added. I darted forward and snatched up the book they were working off of. It wasn't a class textbook, not even one for the more advanced classes, it was a library book. The potion they were opened to and apparently trying to concoct claimed to act as bottled sunlight, giving "light and warmth to all within its glow". They snatched it back, but not before I saw the possible side effects: sunburn, blisters, blindness, and, in case of vampires, incineration. It was also advanced, very advanced. My boys were smart, but this was NEWT level stuff, something none of us was prepared for. It wasn't comforting that the bottom of the page was singed.

"Stop this right now," I ordered.

"Can't do that, Skylar dear," Fred disagreed, adding powdered unicorn horn.

"If we mess up now, or even just stop at this point, it'll explode," George informed me cheerfully. I leaned over the book again, matching their results to the instructions.

"You're cooking it too hot," I snapped, pulling out my wand to lower the fire's temperature. Fred snagged my wand from my grasp.

"We haven't got much time so we're speeding up the process a bit," he shrugged.

"You know how wrong that is!" I told them, starting to get very, very worried. That was a basic lesson, first year stuff, and they were ignoring it like idiots.

"Calm down, it'll be fine," George assured me before adding something that cause the potion to turn a violent shade of aquamarine then quickly to a neon green, running through the whole electrically bright rainbow again and again in an ever speeding cycle.

"Is it supposed to do that?" I asked, justifiably worried.

"Er, no," Fred said as he rechecked the instructions from the top. "Oh," he sighed as he found their error, his finger stopped all the way up on the third step. They had been working on the ninth step. Potions tended to react more violently the further you got from the original error. This was bad. Very, very bad. Before I could say anything though, a girl I didn't know walked right in like she owned the place. She was a Hufflepuff and after a moment, I recognized her as one of the group that had been with Lee out by the Squid. Pale with very light eyes, her hair was nearly the same gold as mine, but had the gentle, model-like curls I had always craved but never been able to tame my hectic pin curls into.

"Step away from that cauldron," she ordered as if she knew exactly what was going on, despite the fact that she had only just walked in. " _Now_ ," she reiterated when none of us obeyed her. The rainbow of a potion was glowing slightly and lit the wall behind us, spinning in a swirl so fast, I couldn't following it with my eyes. Fred and George looked at the girl with amusement. She was my year, though I had never spoken to her in my life. That added to the fact that she was a Hufflepuff made her someone they didn't take seriously.

"Hufflepuffs don't scare us," Fred crooned at her, bending over slightly to emphasize how much shorter than them she was. Waving her wand and whispering a spell, she slid all three of us away from the cauldron in separate directions of one another. Fred still had my wand so, seeing me already disarmed, she only immobilized the twins.

"Hey!" I yelled. They may be idiots and I may be unarmed, but I wasn't going to let her treat my friends like that. Who did she think she freaking was? "Let they go!" She wasn't paying attention to me, or any of us seeing as she was ignoring the twins' yelled curses too. She was instead looking alertly at the cauldron as if trying to gauge something. With her attention elsewhere, I jumped forward, grabbing her wrist and snagging her wand from her grasp. That got her attention.

"Give it back!" she yelled. I waved the wand in the twins' direction, another 'Finite Incantatem' freeing them from their immobilized states. They both fell to the ground, having been frozen mid-lunge, their centers of gravity off. The girl grabbed me around the waist, reaching for her wand. I kicked and tried to shake her off, but the dang girl had a strong grip. One thing suddenly stilled us both: the sound of a large bubble popping in the cauldron, a sound we had been taught from our first lessons meant that something was about to go _boom_.

" _RUN!_ " I yelled to the twins. They followed my advice, making it out the door before the inevitable. The Hufflepuff and I were not so lucky though. We were neck and neck, two yards from the exit, when the explosion threw us several feet forward.

I felt that I had only blinked when I opened my eyes in a wholly other place. _Am I dead?_ I wondered to myself. _Did those two idiots kill me?_ If they did, I was going to haunt them 'til the end of their days. "Ugh," I groaned. My mouth felt like cotton and my fingers wouldn't do more that twitch in the direction of the nice glass of water sitting on the nightstand next to me.

"Awake are you?" Madam Pomfrey's no nonsense voice cut through my moaning. "About time, too. The other one has been awake for an hour. Won't tell me a thing of what happened either." She sounded peeved with this fact and I stayed quiet. "I don't suppose you remember, do you?" She fixed me with a stern look, but I watched her bustle around me without answering. "Of course not." Had she not been so proper, I would have sworn she had snorted and rolled her eyes. "I will be right back," she informed me. "No getting up." As she clipped away from me, I half ignored her and forced myself into a sitting position, looking around until I saw the Hufflepuff propped up in the bed on my right.

"Hello," she said to me carefully. I couldn't read her expression, but she watched me. "Are you alright?" she asked tentatively. "I'm afraid that I maybe did more bad than good that time, but I couldn't just…."

"I'll be fine," I shrugged. "How did we get here?"

"Your friends dragged us here and told Madam Pomfrey that they didn't know what we were up to. What were you guys doing?" Had I been in her place, I would have been angry, or at the least, annoyed, but she sounded more intrigued that anything.

" _I_ wasn't doing anything," I defended. "I caught them attempting to plant a Sun Potion in Snape's office. I tried to get them to stop, but they wouldn't and they were doing it all wrong and here we are." I finally was able to grasp my water glass, but it was heavier than it looked and promptly fell and crashed. "Ugh," I growled. I reached up my sleeve for my wand, but it wasn't there. After a moment of pure panic, I remembered that Fred had taken it. It was good for him that he wasn't in in the room with me or else I would have tackled him, invalid or no.

"On the nightstand," she pointed. Following her directions, I saw my wand, sitting there innocently waiting for me to notice it. I could just imagine it saying to me _Look what you've gone and gotten us into_ this _time._

"Thanks," I muttered to her. "Repairo," I said, nudging the broken glass with the tip of my wand. The charm was a part of the third year curriculum, but when the twins had been working on it, I had realized that it would be a convenient spell to know. Unfortunately, I couldn't refill the water magically; I didn't know that spell yet. There was a pitcher on the nightstand, but if I couldn't maintain a little glass, how would I handle a whole pitcher. I settled back to wait for Pomfrey to refill it, silently cursing my dry mouth, until the Hufflepuff reached forward to help. She stood, albeit shakily, but still better than I could have at that point, and refilled my glass for me. Handing me the glass, she made sure I held it with both hands before she let go. "Thanks," I told her again after I had drunk.

"Of course," she said. We sat in silence for a moment before she said, "I'm Twila." It sounded like 'twilight' and the name seemed to spin like a dancer on pointe. As I thought that, I wondered how hard I had bumped my head.

"Skylar," I reciprocated.

"I know," she smiled. I gave her an odd look; had she found us during a stalking I hadn't noticed? She laughed lightly at my expression \ and explained, "There was a bit of chatter about you when word spread that you were a muggleborn."

"Oh." Wanting to change the subject to anything except me, I challenged, "So, how'd you find us? You didn't just happen to be wandering the dungeons, did ya?" She shook her head, but the small smile she had worn before suddenly looked like a plastic mask.

"I don't know how I found you. Right time, right place I suppose." I didn't trust that for a second. Coincidences didn't exist. Sensing that I didn't trust her less than forthright explanation, we sat in an awkward silence until Madam Pomfrey returned.

"Miss Love, drink this," she commanded, handing Twila a small potion. Rather than questioning what it was as I would have done, she obediently downed the potion, wincing at the taste.

"May I go now, ma'am?" she asked. "I'm fine now."

"Very well, you may go, but if you feel even the slightest headache, you come right back here, understood?"  
"Yes, ma'am." She gathered her things and headed straight out the door, waving at me before she disappeared.

"You though, Miss French," the matron said severely, "will be with us at least for the night. You look a mite too pale."

"I always look pale," I grinned. She couldn't deny that; I had been in here enough times for her to know that I was naturally as pale as parchment.

"You will stay right there tonight," she reinforced, not disputing my paleness. After forcing three different potions down my throat, two of which were awful and one of which tasted like kiwis, she left me alone with only my thoughts. I dozed off a few times but was restless. The twins and Lee came to visit at one point, deservedly contrite expressions on the twins' faces, though Lee didn't look especially concerned. The twins apologized profusely before Madam Pomfrey kicked them out.

"We weren't trying to do _that_ ," they both said several times.

"I know," I sighed. "So what happened to Snape's office?" They couldn't hide the grins on their faces, though they tried to out of respect for my headache.

"The walls are splattered with every color of the neon rainbow," Fred crowed.

"His desk and all his papers too," George laughed out loud.

"I bet he's mad," I grinned, leaning my head back against the headboard.

"Immensely," Lee told me. "I swear he was _snarling_ at dinner."

"Who does he think did it?" I asked. Based on the fact that the hospital wing had not experienced a visit from the Potion's Master, the Headmaster, nor any other authority, I knew that Twila and I had somehow escaped the blame.

"Don't know, but he thinks you and that Hufflepuff are too scared of him to have done it."

"I am not _scared_ of him," I argued. "I simply have a healthy respect for him." They guffawed and sniggered, wagging their brows at me.

"Well of course not," George said mockingly. "Because our Yankee isn't afraid of anything. Except bugs—"

"And animals—"

"And creepy crawlies—"

"And spiders—"

"And anything that goes bump in the night!"

"Oh shut up," I growled, throwing a pillow at them. Madam Pomfrey hustled out of her office saying that the boys were getting me too worked up and made them leave. When Isaac, Terence, Justin and Joshua came to visit me, she told them it was too late and to come back tomorrow morning to collect me after breakfast. After closing the door on their protests, she dimmed the lights of the ward. Though a few people had dropped by throughout the day, I was the only one left.

"Rest, dear," she told me kindly before retreating to her quarters in the back of the ward. For once, I was able to fall asleep quickly.

Of course, I was interrupted only a few hours later. "Please wake Madam Pomfrey, Miss Granger," a familiar voice was saying. As Hermione's steps pattered by, I pried my eyes open to see Dumbledore there, settling two levitating stretchers onto the beds across from mine. From one, came a low moaning, but from the other, complete silence. The first was worrying, but the second was chilling. Madame Pomfrey hurried over only a moment later, Hermione right on her heels.

"What's happened, Albus?" she asked, looking bit like a mother hen as she clicked around the two beds, waving her wand and performing diagnostic spells over both.

"Mr. Potter and his friends have performed a great service this night," Dumbledore said without elaborating. Knowing that if Harry and Hermione were involved, Ron was sure to be as well, I silently raised my head, terrified of what I might see. Ron was there, of course, a moaning lump in the bed, his face and arms covered with cuts and bruises. Harry was on the next bed, silent and for all the world dead. He wasn't quite as cut up as Ron, which isn't to say that he wasn't cut up too, but Madam Pomfrey seemed far more concerned with him.

"Albus, there is dark magic in his wounds," she fretted, a myriad of lights coming from the tip of her wand and wrapping themselves around various hurts, soothing the wounds.

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "Yes, there is no doubt about that." He stayed there for a moment, watching the kids who looked like they had been to hell and back. He seemed to be pondering something, figuring out a puzzle in his mind, setting the pieces in their slots. "Poppy," he said finally, "I will leave them in your quite capable hands, if you don't mind. I have much to do before morning."

"Of course, Albus," she nodded. Dumbledore left and, finally satisfied that Harry was in stable condition, Madam Pomfrey moved to Ron. "Miss Granger," she said when she noticed Hermione still standing between her best friends' beds, a worried look on her face, "you take a seat as well, dear. I'll take care of those cuts as soon as I take care of these two." Hermione nodded. Instead of taking a bed on that side of the room though, she sat in the bed Twila had resided in, directly across from Harry's bed, the four of us making a square. She stayed sitting up despite how absolutely exhausted she looked, keeping an eye on her friends.

When Madam Pomfrey hurried back to her office in search of some potion or another, I spoke for the first time, getting Hermione's attention. Ron had stopped groaning from his bed, a more peaceful silence than Harry's, but the girl still looked scared for her friends. "Hey, Hermione," I hissed. She just about jumped out of her skin and pointed her wand at me before recognizing me and relaxing. "Whoa, there," I said. "What happened to you lot?" She muttered some gibberish about Quirrell and You-Know-Who and a philosopher's stone and chess and flying and devil's snare and a million other things that made no sense. The poor kid sounded like she had been Confunded. Before I could ask her to clarify any of it, Madam Pomfrey was back. Finishing with Ron, she came over to Hermione, performing more diagnostic spells before declaring that Hermione was fine other that a few cuts and bumps. Easily patching those up, she insisted that Hermione lie down and rest until morning. The girl obeyed numbly, still looking towards her friends. Madam Pomfrey remained in the ward with us, going back to tending to Ron and Harry leaving me unable to get any more information out of the frazzled first year.


	18. What One Learns After the Hospital Wing

I woke up to Madam Pomfrey voice, but it wasn't directed at me. "You are both cleared to leave. I suggest you go to the Great Hall and get your breakfast while you can."

"But we wanted to stay with Harry," Ron said. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, glancing at his friend with anxious worry.

"No," Madam Pomfrey said sternly. "Mr. Potter needs rest."

"We won't wake him," Hermione promised, but the matron just shook her head, a steely look in her eyes.

"No. And since you are no longer in need of my care, I must insist you leave. I have work to attend to." The only patients in the ward were Harry and myself and Ron looked like he was about to say this, but held himself back at the look Madam Pomfrey gave him. With light grumbling, they finally agreed to go down to breakfast, each casting concerned looks back at their friend who looked for all the world, dead. "Just a moment," Madam Pomfrey called as they reached the doors. Both first years turned back with hopeful expressions which quickly fell at her next words. "The headmaster has asked me to inform you that you are not to share the details of your _adventure_ ," it was obvious she did not approve of the headmaster's word choice, "with anyone." The two nodded before turning and obediently leaving.

As the door closed behind them though, I heard Ron grumble, "We went through all that to save Flamel's stone and we can't tell anyone? What a load of scum!"

"I did want to ask Harry what happened with Professor Snape," Hermione said before the closing door cut her off. Sending them off without any further explanation did seem rather cold, I thought. Not that I knew what they were talking about. And, of course, not knowing what was going to drive me crazy as I waited for my own release.

It was only after several more minutes of fussing over the comatose Potter that the school matron noticed that I was awake. "Feeling better, are you?" she asked sharply as she bustled over.

"Yes ma'am," I nodded meekly. "May I go now?"

"Soon. Your friends are coming for you in a few minutes." She handed me another potion to swallow and I made a face at it before obeying. It tasted like black licorice, which would have been great if anyone actually liked black licorice. "And you'll come right back if you feel even the slightest bit unwell," she commanded. "Any headache or nausea and I expect you right back here in this bed."

"Yes, ma'am," I sighed, exasperated at her mother hen-ishness. While I waited for my friends, she brought me some buttered toast and pumpkin juice. I finished the small breakfast within a few short minutes and was left with nothing to do except study the opposite wall for the next half hour. Finally, _finally_ , Isaac, Terence, Justin and Joshua turned up. "What took you all so long," I grumbled, but hopped up. I waved at Madam Pomfrey over my shoulder as I marched out of the hospital wing. I ignored her exasperated muttering and the door closed behind me.

"What's Potter doing in there?" Joshua asked as we walked along. "Did Malfoy finally get him?" The other three sniggered. The animosity between the two boys had become a bit of a joke in Slytherin house, though no one, except maybe me who had nothing to lose, would admit that to the blond boy's face. He might be a thin, rather harmless boy for now, but his father was rich, influential, and, if rumor was correct, had been a part of Voldemort's inner circle a decade ago.

"Not sure what happened," I said brusquely. "But we're going to find out." I ignored their groans when I announced that we were headed to the library to do some research.

"Skylar, why?" Terence grumbled. "Classes are _over_. Done for a whole three months!"

"Potter and his friends got into _something_ last night," I told them, "and I want to know what." Four identical sighs later, they all agreed to follow me. We stepped into the library and I looked towards the stacks and stacks of books. Usually, I went straight to those, but for once, I didn't know what exactly I was looking for. All I knew was that someone named Flamel had a rock. So I turned away from the shelves and carefully walked towards Madam Pince at her desk. She looked at me distrustfully—no one came here when there weren't classes to study for apparently—so I did my best to look meek and innocent. The boys hung back, none too interested in getting griped at by the grumpy librarian. "Good morning," I said as I approached.

"Good morning," she answered in kind, stiffly as if the words were foreign on her tongue. I tilted my head down a bit, looking up at the librarian with wide eyes. She was an easier nut to crack than McGonagall and I knew the doe eyes would work on her. They had in the past.

"I was wondering," I said. "If you could direct me. I heard about someone named Flamel and I wanted to do a bit of reading about him." I desperately hoped that Flamel was in fact a 'him'. I would be thoroughly pissed if the wrong pronoun ruined this thing before it began.

"What do you wish to know about him?" she asked already walking towards an opening in the shelves. I hurried after her, knowing that otherwise, I would get lost.

"Oh, a bit of everything," I said, unsure of how to ask about a rock. I should not have said that. A right, three lefts and two more rights later, she stopped and mounted a ladder. I wasn't sure why she didn't just use her wand to levitate books, but she almost never did.

"These should be informative then," she said, pulling a book off the second shelf from the top. The librarian was always very careful with the library books. I had seen her throw fits over dog-eared corners and notes written in the margins of pages. Once, someone spilled tea across a book about vampires and I thought she was going to personally throw him into the midst of a bloodthirsty coven. However, maybe she had seen me one to many times and knew that I wouldn't let the books be hurt because from ten feet up in the air, she dropped a heavy tome towards me. I caught it across my forearms, looking up in time to see her dropping another one.

"Ooh," I grunted as I caught the third. "Thank you, Madam Pince, that should be enough to get me start—" She dropped another one. I looked around desperately for my friends, but they were nowhere to be seen. They must have fallen behind and gotten lost in the shelves because I could hear them bumbling around two aisles over. Deciding it would be ridiculous to call out for help, I looked back to the librarian just as she dropped three more in quick succession. My knees shuddered under the impacts. "Really, ma'am, thanks, that's enou—" she dropped another one.

I looked gratefully towards Isaac as he finally rounded the corner. "Help me," I mouthed, scowling when he had to restrain himself from laughing.

"Thank you for your assistance, Madam Pince," he said, quite suavely for a thirteen year old. The old librarian paused, another book poised to drop from her hand. "We'll look through these," he added as the others rounded the corner. She nodded shortly before descending the ladder.

"If you have any more questions, I'll be at my desk," she reminded us unnecessarily before setting the last book on top of the pile that already covered my eyes. I considered dropping the entire pile just to piss her off. However, I knew though that if I did that, we could all be permanently be expelled from the library. And I couldn't afford that.

"Yes, ma'am, thank you." I heard the hidden grin in Justin's voice nothing happening until Madam Pince's footsteps receded. Someone approach me and my stack shook as that someone removed the top two books. "Hello there," Justin grinned at me when I could see over the stack of books again.

"Stop grinning and help me," I growled. Isaac laughed, taking two books for himself and handing two to Joshua. Terence stepped forward and took one, leaving me with the bottom two. Justin sat down where he was, leaning against the bottom shelves.

"Alright," Joshua sighed. It was obvious that he did not want to be here, but I appreciated that he had stayed. "What are we looking for?"

"Something about a stone," I shrugged. Four pairs of eyes looked up at me.

"That's it?" Terence asked derisively and I prickled at his tone. "We're looking for a damn rock in all this?" He gestured widely at the books spread around us.

"Yup," I told him, the last sound popping like bubble gum. "You don't have to stay," I added coldly. He grumbled under his breath, but opened the cover of his book.

"To work then," Isaac said, looking between the two of us. We all joined Justin on the floor, leaning forward to flip through our respective books. I scanned chapter heading after chapter heading, only digging into the chapter when the information looked promising. However, though I learned all about the twelve uses of dragon's blood (I wasn't sure why anyone would try to remove shirt stains with dragons' blood, but apparently, it worked), I didn't find anything about any kind of rock.

It was a half hour before anyone had any progress. Justin muttered a low, "Whoa," before calling us over. "Come look at this," he said. We all crowded around him and where he sat with his second book, the first already cast aside. "This had better be what you're looking for Skylar, because I can't think of anything better." He indicated a line about halfway down the page and we all started to read silently. Well, mostly silently; Joshua was reading under his breath on Justin's other side.

 _Nicolas Flamel is the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone. The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Philosopher's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal._

 _There have been many reports of the Philosopher's Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera lover. Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight)._

We all sat in silence while we digested the information. This was the kind of thing Slytherins were drawn to. _Power_. And this stone epitomized power. As we sat there, each of us were already imagining what we would do with such a thing. I don't know the others were planning, but thirst for this stone was a feeling that would never completely be extinguished. I wasn't drawn to the eternal life bit of the stone—I was too attached to the way things were to want to live long enough to watch my entire world evolve into something completely different—but the gold, that was…intriguing, to say the least. To an abandoned kid, someone my own parents didn't see as important enough to keep, a small mountain of gold was appealing. I could build my own life on that, not needing anyone's charity, everyone looking up to me for once. My eyes were glazed over, the image of my parents' awe-filled expressions as brilliant as an heirloom diamond, when Joshua's voice popped my fantasies.

"So did Potter steal this Philosopher's Stone? How do we get it from him?" I shook my head. Stealing a powerful rock that was probably the only thing keeping this man and his wife alive didn't seem like a Gryffindor thing to do; even more, it didn't sound like a Potter thing to do, but I suppose anything was possible.

"I don't know," I muttered. "Where's Devon?" They rolled their eyes and Terence muttered something about Yankees, but I couldn't quite make out what.

"Southwest corner of England," Isaac told me patiently.

"No way Potter could have gotten there and back last night then, so he probably didn't rob the old man."

"Pity," Justin sighed. "I guess that means we can't take it from him then." I looked at him in surprise.

"Doesn't your family already have several mansions and a beach house in addition to the rather full Gringotts vault?"

"There's always room for a little more gold though, isn't there?" he shrugged. "Besides, living forever? I could do that." I chuckled. "So, you going to ask Potter or do we need to?"

"He's still out cold, I bet," I disagreed. "Madam Pomfrey said he needed lots of rest so it will probably be all day until he's awake, at least."

"His friends then, we'll have to ask them," Isaac said. He spoke quickly, excitement's flame shining in his face. I looked to the rest of the boys. Terence was flipping through the book looking for more information on the stone. Justin and Joshua both looked to me hopefully, the same greed sparkling in their eyes that I felt within myself.

"Yeah, we'll ask them," I agreed. "But after whatever happened last night, I don't think they'll be very trustful right now. They were pretty shaken up when I saw them."

"Then you'll ask them," Terence pressed. "The Gryffindors practically think you're one of them."

"It's like having a spy in their camp," Joshua grinned and I shot him a disapproving glare.

"I am not a spy," I told him, but he just shrugged.

"Information specialist, then. Come on, French. You've got to ask them. Think of the _gold_ ," He added when I hesitated. Some part of me knew he was manipulating me, but I couldn't deny that the thought of all the gold that could be created with this stone practically made me salivate.

"Alright, I'll go," I agreed. "You lot go back to the common room. I'll meet you there." That agreed, I ran off, leaving them to put the books away.

After giving the password to an ever suspicious Fat Lady, I pushed into the Gryffindor common room, looking desperately around for Ron's carrot-top and Hermione's bushy mane. Before I found them though, I ran into Lee and the twins, quite literally. "Hey, Yankee," Fred grinned as he steadied me with a hand on my shoulder. "Looking for us?"

"Not today actually," I said, noting the surprise in their eyes with amusement. "Have you seen Ron around?"

"Ron?" George asked incredulously. "Why are you looking for Ron?" I stopped glancing around the crowded common room to look into their faces.

"Have you heard about his adventure last night?" I asked a tilt to my voice.

"What adventure?" they all three asked as one. If there was ever a word to get a Gryffindor's attention in was 'adventure'.

"Last night," I said calmly, "Ron, Harry and Hermione went off looking for the Philosopher's Stone. Now Harry is lying comatose in the hospital wing. I'm curious." To say nothing of my desire to have that rock for myself.

"What's a Philosopher's Stone?" Lee asked and the twins looked at me with expectation.

I leaned close to them and they all leaned in too. Some corner of my mind recognized that this conspiring circle was a very regular formation for us. I whispered to relay the information to them, not wanting to attract the attention of the surrounding Gryffindors. "It turns metal into _gold_ and it makes an elixir that lets you live _forever_." Their eyes widened.

"And you think _Ron_ has that?" George asked skeptically.

"Maybe," I shrugged. "That's kinda what I want to ask him."

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Fred asked, leading us up the boys' dormitory staircase. He pushed open a door on the left, and we found Ron and Hermione staring at us, their conversation stopped mid-sentence. "This looks cozy," Fred grinned. "Mind if we join?"

"Well, we were in the middle—"

"Of discussing last night's search for the Philosopher's Stone?" I asked pleasantly, cutting Hermione off. The two first years stared at me in alarm.

"You can't know about that." Identical words came from them both simultaneously, but they each seemed to mean something different. Ron sounded like he was telling me it was impossible for me to have found out. Hermione sounded like she was telling me that I wasn't allowed to know.

"Sure, I can," I shrugged arrogantly. "I heard you," I pointed to Ron whose ears turned red, "mention it on your way out of the hospital wing. I did the research so I know _exactly_ what it is. What I want to know is, did you get it?"

"We're not supposed to—"

"Oh come on, Granger," Fred grinned. "She'll find out one way or another."

"You should probably just tell us the easy way," George agreed. Ron gulped and Hermione looked a little white. I should have felt worse about scaring the two kids, but, well, I _really_ wanted to know.

"Come on, then," I said impatiently. "Out with it." Hermione shook her head resolutely and Ron copied her. I sighed with frustration. That was the problem with Gryffindors: intimidation just made them hold tighter. I pulled out my next argument, hoping to appeal to Hermione's love of logic. "You know," I said as I focused on the girl. "You already told me everything last night. You sounded a bit loony though. Explaining now isn't breaking any promise more than you already have. You'll just be reassuring me that you're mentally stable." I heard George snicker lightly behind me, which he quickly disguised as clearing his throat.

"I didn't tell you anything last night!" Hermione protested, a slightly desperate look in her eye.

"Yes, you did," I reminded her. "I was in the hospital wing last night too and you told me everything. You told me about the Devil's Snare and the potions that let you walk through fire and the flying keys and the giant chess game." Hermione turned blanched and Ron looked at her. The boys behind me shifted at the new information.

"Hermione," Ron moaned.

"Don't blame her, she didn't realize what she was doing," I told him. "So, are you two going to explain what's going on, or do I have to tell the whole school that you've both gone barmy and that Harry's on his death bed." Out of my peripheral, I saw the twins grin.

"Fine," Ron conceeded. "We'll tell you." And they did. They launched into the whole tale which, surprisingly enough, started months ago, all the way back in September when they ran into a three-headed dog on the right-hand side of the third-floor corridor just past midnight.


	19. Coming Home

Ron and Hermione might have intended for us to keep their story on the down low, but they never actually made us promise so I didn't feel guilty instantly running off to my own common room to tell my friends everything I had heard. While it was rather disappointing that we didn't have access to the stone and no idea where it could be, the story was too exciting not to enjoy and too juicy not to spread to the rest of the school. And of course, when it was discovered that Quirrell was missing and Snape was there, as grumpy as ever, it was easy to put two and two together and the story went on to include that somehow, Harry had been injured trying to keep the Stone from a greedy Quirrell. He was a hero once again, despite his unconscious state that lasted a whole three days. Just in the first day, Madam Pomfrey was driven crazy by a multitude of people flooding the hospital wing to see the sleeping boy. Some came bearing gifts. The twins even roped me into their scheme of taking Harry a toilet seat, though I have no idea why they chose that particular item. When Harry's well-wishers began to overwhelm the matron, she banned all visitors from the wing. So of course, at least fifty kids faked injuries to get into the hospital wing long enough to fawn over the corpse-like kid. If you camped outside the doors of the hospital wing for twenty minutes, you got a great parade of false limps and over-exaggerated grimaces of pain. Finally, Madam Pomfrey had to resort to meeting everyone at the door in order to diagnose whether they had an actual health-related problem or a celebrity crush. Nearly everyone was turned away and for two days, no one saw the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice. He didn't even show up for the Quidditch game against Ravenclaw, still passed out apparently. The game was almost painful to watch; without even a backup seeker, Gryffindor was murdered by Ravenclaw. It took a great deal of stolen sweets to cheer up the team that evening. Stolen of course from Tatiana's "secret" stash under her bed, because of course rich kids had the best candy.

Harry didn't turn up until the final banquet. Everyone went quiet and strained their necks to get a good look at him when he walked in a few minutes after everyone else. His face turned red and I snickered under my breath as he walked to the far table and took a seat next to a very relieved looking Ron and Hermione. Everyone started talking again, making sure their neighbors knew the story. Down the table, I noticed Draco Malfoy carefully ignoring the hoopla about the Potter boy. Finally, everyone went quiet again, those who had stood to get a good look at Harry, taking their seats with only minor embarrassment.

And this was the part I had been looking forward to all day. Slytherin would be awarded the House Cup again this year, for the seventh year in a row. The Great Hall was decorated in green and silver and a massive banner with the Slytherin snake ran along the wall behind the staff table. It almost hadn't happened. With all the points I had lost with my wardrobe alterations, we had been in second place, something that as Slytherins, we couldn't abide. I had worked hard for the last month of classes to earn back points for my house. I earned back seventy of the eighty-five points I had lost and we ended up forty-six points ahead of Ravenclaw. While I wasn't arrogant enough to say that I had singlehandedly won us the house cup, I was proud of how many points I had gotten for us. And, yes, I had taken the opportunity to rub our victory in Fred, George and Lee's faces, just a little.

"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said once everyone was quiet. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink out teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were…you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts….Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding," he gestured to the silver trophy next to him and a gleeful murmur went up and down my table. "The points stand thus," Dumbledore was saying. "In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two." Our victory finally announced, we broke into cheers, several people up and down the table banging the goblets, plates or silverware on the table to add to the din. Dumbledore waved his hands for quiet and after a moment, we gave it to him; we had what we wanted, we could give him his speech if he wanted. "Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin," he said. "However, recent events must be taken into account." The whole room went silent and it seemed we hardly dared breathe. We knew this would not go our way. "Ahem," Dumbledore began as if he had not noticed the apprehension and confusion he was causing. "I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes…"

"Ah, shit," I heard someone up the row mutter only to be shushed by his neighbor.

"First—to Mr. Ronald Weasley…" Like almost everyone else in the hall, I stretched my neck to see the Gryffindor table. Ron had turned a dark red at all the faces pointed his way. "For the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty points." The Gryffindors erupted, cheering loudly. I scowled. Yes, Ron did a noble and good thing on that bewitched chessboard, but I didn't have to be a seer to see where this was going. All my hard work for those points was going to waste. I slumped in my seat disgruntled. Dumbledore didn't wave to quiet the raucous table this time, he waited until the cheers died down. "Second—to Miss Hermione Granger…for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points." Hermione put her head on her folded arms, hiding her face. Her shoulders were shaking, but I couldn't tell if she was laughing or crying. Harry kindly patted her on the shoulder. Now Gryffindor was only fourteen points behind Ravenclaw and sixty points behind Slytherin. I moodily wondered if Dumbledore was going to give Harry sixty one points or a full hundred.

"We're done," I grumbled to Terence who sat next to me and looked just as pissed as I felt.

"Third—to Mr. Harry Potter…" The room went even quieter than when Harry had stepped into the room. While we all knew that something big had gone down with Quirrell, no one knew the exact details and everyone was hoping for a full story now. We barely dared to breathe for worry of missing even a word of the explanation. We shouldn't have bothered. As usual, Dumbledore decided to be cryptic. "For pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points." Gryffindors had stood to jump and scream now. Though I understood their excitement, I mollified myself with the fact that they weren't totally winning. We were tied so at least Slytherin would get half credit for winning the Cup this year. While it felt like lemon juice on a paper cut, sharing the Cup was better than nothing. But Dumbledore raised his hand for quiet one more time. It took a moment for the Gryffindors to notice, but when they did, they went silent too. Dumbledore smiled benignly. "There are all kinds of courage," he said grandly. Maybe now he would explain Harry's heroics against Quirrell, I thought. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."

I had to cover my ears to withstand the explosion of decibels coming from Gryffindor table. The action also shielded me from some of the more colorful swears coming from my fellow Slytherins. "What the hell did Longbottom do?" Joshua yelled. I shook my head, signifying my own confusion. In all the versions of the story I had heard around the school, not one of them had included the fat, forgetful toad boy. He was frozen at his table as half the house attempted to hug him at once. Even the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were dancing around and cheering and from the looks they were sending our table, I could tell that their joy didn't come so much from Gryffindor winning as it did from Slytherin losing. I growled under my breath.

"Which means," Dumbledore yelled over everyone, I was sure he knew as well as I did that if he waited for silence, we would never get to eat, "we need a little change of decoration." He clapped his hands and all of us at the Slytherin table watched with long faces as the green changed to red, the silver to gold and the serpent to a lion. A few "boos" and even more swears were called out at the change, but we were drowned out by the victorious screeches of the other houses. As Dumbledore clapped his hands for the food to appear, something the Gryffindors hardly seemed to notice, I was very, very tempted to start another food fight, a real, muggle-type food fight, against Gryffindor. But I didn't. I was good, kept my food out of the air, and let the Gryffindors have their night. We would get them next year when the results weren't skewed.

The next day, trunks were packed, wandering animals were found and caged and the day after that, we were all given flyers informing us that magic was not permitted during the summer holidays before being hustled onto the Hogwarts Express. "I always hope they'll forget to give us these," Fred grumbled as we boarded the train just ahead of the youngest Weasley boy and his heroic friends (I hadn't quite forgiven them for taking the house cup from us yet).

"Pass it here," I said, holding out my hand as we entered an empty compartment. Taking George and Lee's as well, I crumbled all four into loose balls and set them on the floor in the middle of the compartment. I shot a few sparks at them and they lit beautifully. Fred, George and Lee hurrahed at the pretend freedom from the rules, but honestly, I just liked setting something on fire. I might not be a pyromaniac, but setting one annoying thing on fire does release tension—don't ask me how. For the rest of the ride, we joked and talked and laughed and plotted. Isaac, Terence, Justin and Joshua stopped by to wish me a happy holiday and several other Slytherins stuck their heads in to say hi and bye as well. The phenomenon led to a few close encounters when the Slytherins wishing me a good summer came face to face with the Gryffindors wishing the boys a good summer. Finally, the train slowed and pulled into the station and I let myself acknowledge the thrill that had been bubbling in my stomach since late the previous night. It had barely let me sleep. I was going _home_ today. The word felt foreign and I was excited. Of course, the worst case scenario of Molly Weasley loudly saying they didn't want me and sending me away was playing in my head on a loop, but I tried to ignore that.

Being with the twins had its advantages, as usual. People were more willing to let us push through quickly and we ended up somewhere near the front of the line waiting to be let into Kings Cross Station. Gus sat in his cage, alert as he watched the chaos all around him. When we got through, Molly and Ginny were waiting for us, though Ginny seemed to be looking past us for someone else. Molly swept both her sons into hugs, welcoming them back and sternly asking if they had behaved themselves since Easter. After their half-truths, which I could tell she could see straight through, she turned to me. "Hello, dear," she said fondly as she pulled me into a tight hug. Molly gave amazing hugs. But maybe it was just because I hadn't had a real mom-like hug in about two years; depressing thought. I returned her hug somewhat desperately and she patted my cheek. "We'll be waiting a bit," she warned us. "As prefect, Percy will be at the end of the line." Before I had time to wonder how she knew this, George whispered to me that their brothers Bill and Charlie had both been prefects too.

"So it's a family tradition, then?" I asked, arching my eyebrows at them.

"One we heartily plan to break," Fred assured me.

"And you had better too," George added, pointing a threatening finger at me. I just laughed at him, not bothering to make a defense. With all my detentions, I doubted there was any way _anyone_ would even consider me for the vaulted position. I was distracted from answering though when Ginny began squealing.

"There he is, mum, there he is, look!" I looked around, wondering who could garner this much excitement from her. Her brothers hadn't, but I guessed that it was possible that she just liked Ron or Percy more (though the idea didn't make much sense to me). Ron was just exiting Platform 9 ¾, but it wasn't the redhead that she was pointing at. She was pointing at Harry. I almost forgot how famous he was outside of Hogwarts, but it appeared that Ginny had a little crush. I smirked up at the twins wondering what they thought. They weren't paying attention. They had been captured by Wood who was instructing them both to practice very hard over the summer so that they would be sure to win the Quidditch Cup the next year. He was quite cut up about the outcome this year, what with Harry being too busy to play, stuck as he was in the hospital wing after saving the world for the second time in his eleven years and all.

"Be quiet, Ginny, and it's rude to point." Ginny might have dropped her hand, but her eyes remained steadfastly glued to Harry as he drew closer to our little group, walking with Ron and Hermione. Molly greeted them all with smiles.

"Busy year?" she asked Harry in a way that wasn't a question at all. Dumbledore would have written her of course, seeing that her son was involved in the whole ordeal. I was sure Ron and Percy had both written home with the story as well and I knew for a fact that the twins had; they had asked me to spell check it for them and then made me sign my name at the bottom, insisting that editing counted as writing and that, therefore, the letter was from me as well.

"Very," Harry smiled at her. "Thanks for the fudge and the sweater, Mrs. Weasley."

"Oh, it was nothing, dear," she said fondly. I remember George's comment that with Molly already making gifts for seven kids, one or two more wasn't a big deal. It might not have been a huge addition for her, but I could tell she put just as much care into the gifts she had sent Harry and me as she had for those she had made for her biological children.

"Ready, are you?" A fat man with a bushy mustache had waddled up to Harry and was glaring at him. After the near-reverence so many people had treated Harry with at school, this man's attitude, different even from Malfoy's jealousy, was strange and abrasive. I saw Harry flinch away from the man, but defiance lit in his eyes too, something the man noticed and did _not_ appear to like. Only a few feet behind this fat man, stood a rail thin woman and a boy our age who was nearly as fat as his father. The woman looked around at all of us, every wizard kid and adult on the platform, with a look of simultaneous disgust and superiority. The boy looked at us all with a twitchy kind of fear and I wondered what his deal was.

"You must be Harry's family," Molly said. The comment and even her tone might have been friendly and welcoming, but there was a war-like look in her eye. I felt like an idiot for not realizing this was Harry's muggle aunt and uncle earlier, but it wasn't like there was _any_ kind of family resemblance to be going on.

"In a manner of speaking," the uncle said gruffly. "Hurry up, boy, we haven't got all day." He walked off without waiting for Harry, his wife and son following him quickly. The twins were still talking Quidditch though Wood had already left with his family, so I nudged them, direction their attention to the fat, blond boy who waddled after his father, clutching his mother's hand as he looked back at us all so often that I wondered how long until he gave himself whiplash.

"Nice, ripe target, don't you think?" I whispered to the twins, referring to the departing kid. They grinned mischievously, but straightened their faces quickly when Molly gave us a look. Harry looked after his uncle, but didn't follow immediately, something I felt absurdly proud of him for.

"See you over summer, then," he said to Ron and Hermione. Molly nodded her approval of the plan as she looked after the sour little family.

"Hope you have—er—a good holiday," Hermione said, looking at the uncle's retreating back with concern.

"Oh, I will," said Harry with a Weasley twin-worthy grin. " _They_ don't know we're not allowed to use magic at home. I'm going to have a lot of fun with Dudley this summer…." The twins and I snickered as Harry walked away, pushing his trolley after his unfortunate family and the look on Molly's face said that perhaps she should set Harry straight, but she couldn't find it in herself to. After wishing Hermione happy holidays, waving to Lee, who had hurried to his family the second we exited Platform 9 ¾, and waiting several more minutes for Percy, we all piled into a blue car that should not have been able to fit all of us and our stuff comfortably, but did, and began the long drive to the Burrow.

As I so often did on car rides, I slept for a good portion of the ride, somehow alert enough to swipe at Fred and George's hands every time they attempted to draw on my face. Gus napped in my lap for the most part, but woke me up when he jumped from me to Fred to George in order to catch a bug that had flown in through the barely open window. In my wakeful moments, I listened to Percy explain the whole year to his mother, something I was quite sure was entirely unnecessary, but she was patient enough to endure and even appeared to be thoroughly interested. I figured that that was just what happened when you were a mother. Meanwhile, Ginny gave Ron the third degree on the marvelous Harry Potter, someone I hadn't realized was so fantastical until I saw the stars in her eyes. Ron endured it all for a good three quarters of an hour before telling Ginny, quite rudely, to shut up. After taking the reprimand form his mother and reluctantly apologizing to his sister, he sat in silence, watching out the window and still taking his sister's less constant questions, very few of which did not concern Harry Potter. The twins spoke in whispers so their mother couldn't hear them plotting out their summer full of experiments, some brand new and some continued from the last summer. They asked for my opinions when I was awake, but apparently, my mind had decided to take off with the Hogwarts Express so I didn't have much to offer.

There was an awkward moment when we drove through Ottery St. Catchpole, inevitably going right by the orphanage. Molly, realizing where we were, subconsciously slowed the car and looked back at me, a stricken look on her face. Fred and George looked at me too, but I looked past them all to the dingy building. I saw Mr. Dotes strutting towards the building, crossing the yard and apparently just coming from town. The Cliffords would be returning to this place soon, maybe already had, and for the first time, I felt some small bit of sympathy for them. They were arrogant brats, yes, but I wouldn't wish such a lonely place on anyone. At least they had each other. Ginny, Ron and Percy looked around wondering why the four of us had suddenly fallen so quiet.

"I'm so sorry, dear," Molly said from the front seat, her hands white on the steering wheel. I forgot that this road goes right past—"

"It's alright," I shrugged and forced a smile for her. "As long as you're not dropping me off." Understanding lit in Percy's eyes, but Ron and Ginny were both still oblivious.

"Of course not," Molly said fiercely but with a smile and me as she accelerated away. Fred, who was directly on my left, patted my knee awkwardly in the silent car. George, who was on Fred's other side, leaned forward to look around his twin at me. I smiled and nodded at him that I really was okay, and slowly, conversation in the car picked up again. As we drove out of the town, Molly said, "Your father is still at work, but Charlie will be here in a few hours and Bill is coming next week." The boys all grinned at the coming of their grown brother while Ginny pouted that the new topic had gotten in the way of her asking Ron yet another question about Harry. However, since her last question had been about the exact shade of Harry's eyes, I think Ron was rather relieved.

"When exactly will Charlie be arriving?" Percy asked in his usual manner. I wondered if he was closer to Charlie than he was to his younger siblings. He always seemed to be the odd one out, too stiff next to Fred, George and Ron. Maybe Bill and Charlie were more like him, practical and goal oriented.

"I'm not sure," Molly sighed. "He was going to be here earlier to meet you all at the station, but he flooed this morning to say that he had a few unexpected issue to take care of. Apparently a Norwegian Ridgeback has been giving him a spot of trouble." Ron began coughing violently next to me and I gave him an odd look. He waved my concern away, blushing furiously while asking his mother if it was anything serious. "He said it's not, but I can never be sure with him…." She trailed off, a maternal worry causing a noticeable tinge in her voice. "He promised to be here for supper; he just had to be sure this one was comfortable before he left." Ron shifted uncomfortably in his seat again, his ears a bright red that clashed with his ginger hair.

"Charlie can help us teach you," George told me eagerly.

"Year, Charlie was Gryffindor's last Seeker," Fred said. "Not as good as Harry, maybe, but still bloody brilliant on a broom."

"Watch that tongue of yours, young man," Molly told him sternly, looking at him in the review mirror.

"Sorry, mum," he apologized. We pulled to a stop then, in the yard of the strangest building I had ever seen. "Ah, we're here!"

"Home, sweet home," George informed me. "C'mon, Skylar."


	20. The Burrow

"Alright, everybody out. We need all hands on deck to unload. You too, Ginny," Molly directed us, first giving Ginny the twins' brooms to put away ("Be careful with those!" they commanded as she ran off), before levitating each of our trunks so that even though we still had to pull and direct them, at least we weren't lifting them. This was a particular blessing considering the house we were entering. As I stood looking at it from several yards away, my trunk knocking into my leg several times with impatience, I had the random thought that if I ever had the desire to stump, and possibly drive insane, a physics genius, I would bring him here. It looked like the first level had been built on purpose, but the rest of the levels had just kind of fallen on top, the edges and corners not even with one another at all, but somehow still balancing. There were at least three chimneys on the top story that I could see properly, and possibly one or two more. It was charming.

"Fred, George, will you show Skylar to Ginny's room? I've put an extra bed in there for her. I hope…" her hands fluttered at her sides.

"It'll be fine, mum," Fred reassured her.

"Come on, then," George said to me, pulling my attentions away from the odd construction. "Mum probably made biscuits, but she's not going to let us have any until we're unpacked." I followed them inside to where the scent of cookies warmed the air and I smiled as the twins appreciatively sniffed at the scent before hurrying me along. They had a bit of trouble though; there was just so much to see. The house was cluttered, but not in a way that looked messy. More like the family had collected a million and one things over the years. I wanted to look at all of them. Finally getting me to the stairs, Fred waked ahead of me while George walked behind, possibly so they could ensure that my curiosity didn't drive me off course. We stopped on the first lever and Fred pushed open the door. I could hear Ron's heavy footsteps still making their way up the many, many stairs this place must have while Percy's steps paced directly above the room I stepped into.

The room was brightly lit and welcoming. From Ginny's constant questions about Harry, I had expected her room to be exceedingly girly—it would be understandable for her to be the darling of the family, the little girl after so many boys—but the room was surprisingly non-girly. There was a poster of a band called _The Weird Sisters_ , whoever they were, and her desk and bookshelves held trinkets and things I expected that she had found out in the yard or the woods. She was a collector, this one. The right side of the room however, was bland and I realized that this was _mine_. Whatever might have been there had been moved to the left side making this side a blank slate, waiting for me. I was touched that Ginny had been willing to let me take over part of her space.

"We're one floor up, the door on the right," George said from the doorway. "Come get us when you're done in here and we'll give you the grand tour." I nodded, still looking around this room and they left me. I could still hear their footsteps and voices as they walked up the stairs. Finally, I gave up studying the room and pulled my trunk over to the neatly made bed on the right. The trunk insisted on hovering still and I had to use my whole body to press it to the bed before the levitation spell understood that I had no use for it now and gave up. Gus jumped to exploring to place the second I released him. He was usually a very well behaved cat, but I was a little worried about which trinkets on Ginny's side of the room he might decide to eat; he had long since destroyed all those little army men. It was difficult to unpack while focusing on not letting the curious cat nibble on Ginny's belongings.

As I unlatched my trunk and started pulling things out, I was unhappily surprised to realize that this was really all I owned in this world; literally, my whole life fit into this three foot by two foot by two foot box. I wanted the kind of clutter Ginny had, the kind that claimed a place as your home even when you weren't there. After unloading textbooks, the few novels I had found lost around the castle and collected, and finally tucked all my clothes into the empty dresser, I shoved my trunk and Gus's cage under the bed and sat on the mattress heavily. Gus left his perusal of the dark underneath Ginny's bed and jumped onto my lap, poking my stomach with his paw until I paid attention to him.

"What do you want?" I asked him dully, wishing I spoke cat-onese.

I was still trying to understand his unhelpful charades when someone at the door squealed, "Oh, she's absolutely adorable!" I looked up to see Ginny, the only person in this house that could make a sound like that, I hoped. "Can I hold her?" she begged.

"Sure," I shrugged, picking Gus up by his middle and placing him in Ginny's outstretched arms. "But it's a 'he'. His name is Gus."

"Hello, Gus," she cooed. Gus seemed quite pleased with the attentions of his new friend and didn't try to poke _her_ in the stomach "What's 'Gus' short for?" she asked without looking up, cradling him in her arms like a babe as she sat down on her bed.

"Huh?"

"The name 'Gus'. What is it short for?"

"Oh, it's not short for anything. I just named him Gus." She looked up at me like the oddest thing she could imagine and I laughed. "Not very wizard, I know," I told her, "but he seems to like it well enough." I watched while she laid back on her bed and let Gus walk all over her. She giggled when he walked over particularly ticklish spots. "Thank you, by the way," I said and she looked over at me, her pretty red hair fanned out over her head. "For sharing you room with me. I'm sure it wasn't your first choice."

She smiled at me and it looked so natural on her face that I wondered why I had thought she might be mad at me. "I've never had a sister before," she said and my stomach twisted slightly as I thought about my sister back in America. "Besides, it's your room now, too." I was shocked at how easily she accepted me. Then again, that just seemed to be the way this family worked, inviting a near stranger to live with them for the foreseeable future.

"Thank you," I said again. "I've only ever had a sister. Brothers sound easier to deal with." She wrinkled her nose a little.

"Not when there are so many of them!" she told me. "And they always leave me out of everything!" I chuckled a little at her dissatisfied expression.

"I think that's more of an older sibling thing than a brother thing. But I guess them all being male doesn't help things either." She shook her head vehemently.

"It does not!" she said adamantly and I couldn't help but chuckle. Apparently, the grass was always greener on the other side; Ginny may have wanted something closer to my original position, but I had always wanted something closer to hers, always craved an older brother to take care of me…and she had _six!_

Speaker of her older brothers. "Could you watch Gus for me?" I asked. She had turned her attention to the black cat who seemed to be looking for the bottom sheet and was now just a lump scurried around under her blankets. "The twins told me to come get them when I finished unpacking."

"Sure," she said without looking up. I wandered up the stairs and found myself standing between two closed doors. Had they said left or right? Usually, the weren't hard to find with the amount of noise they gave off, but now, both doors hid unhelpfully silent rooms. After counting off Eenie-meeni-minie-moe, I chose the door on the left, opening it without knocking as I had countless times at Hogwarts.

"Excuse you!" Percy exclaimed, covering a letter he was writing at his desk.

"Sorry!" I said, red with embarrassment and quickly closed the door. I went straight to the other door, pushing it open and gratefully finding the twins in an odd chaos of unpacking. "Hey," I said, dropping onto the already cluttered bed closest to the door.

"Hey," they were trying to make order of their mess. "Mum checks, George explained their unusual attempt at neatness.

"Ah. Do you need help?"

"Nah," Fred waved me off. "She'll just lecture us that we didn't bring you here to be a maid." I snickered and ducked as a textbook was chucked in my general direction.

"Hey, do you reckon we'll need these anymore?" George asked, holding Quirrell's textbook.

"Did you use it last year?" I asked.

"No, Bingham favored stuff with more gruesome pictures."

"Said they were more accurate," Fred shivered theatrically. "Mum was horrified when Ginny got ahold of one of them last summer. Said they would scar her for life."

"Seems like she's bounced back from that scaring quite well," I grinned thinking about the bright girl one floor below us.

"Yeah, she's a tough one."

"So why did Bingham quit?" I asked, curiously wandering around their room. Underneath the mess was the clutter that ruled this house. I poked through shelves of Zonko's tricks and kids toys they had never gotten rid of. It was endearing to find a windup dragon and a toy racecar. They looked very muggle and I wondered if Arthur had brought them home for his kids when they were little.

"He didn't, he was sacked."

"His lesson plan apparently called for bringing a vampire into the classroom, holding him in a cage, then spilling a couple drops of blood so we could observe the blood frenzy they experienced when faced with fresh blood. Dumbledore discovered his plans and sacked him on the spot. Some ministry miss came in to teach for the last month of classes."

"She was dead bori— _Careful over there!_ " Fred warned me as I started poking around the shared desk. I looked up at him with alarm. "We've got a few…"

"Volatile," George supplied an apparently appropriate word because his brother nodded.

"Yes, a few _volatile_ projects over there." I smirked at them and was very tempted to poke everything I could reach. I was smarter than that though. "Anyways, she was useless. Fell asleep in her class almost as much as in Binn's."

"How long had he been teaching?" I asked. I couldn't imagine the vampire thing working in prior years.

"That was his first year," George grunted as he shoved the last of his clothes into the drawer in the dresser and pushed it closed with his shoulder. "Before that, we had Teally. She quit to go travel the world."

"Was she retiring then?"

"Nope, in fact she barely looked graduated. I heard she met some bloke in Thailand and is living with him in Mexico."

"Fun for her," I said, pulling the chair away from the booby trapped desk as both boys collapsed on their respective beds. "So three teachers in three years?" I checked and they nodded.

"I heard the job is cursed," Fred said, lifting his head to give me a sinister look. "No one has ever held the job for more than a year. And we must remember: Quirrell _died_ when his year was up."

"I think that's just one of the risks of having Voldemort," they both flinched, "sticking out of the back of your head," I said. We had corned Harry after the End of the Year Banquet and made him tell us everything. George opened his mouth to say something, but I had just realized something and I burst out laughing, covering my mouth as I rocked back and forth on their chair, my feet lifting off the floor as my body curled. They looked at me like I was insane, but I barely noticed. I was laughing so hard that tears gathered in my eyes.

"Er, did we miss something?" George asked.

"I just realized," I gasped, "remember, rememeber when you bewitched those snowballs to follow Quirrell?"

"Er, yeah?"

"Banging on the back of his turban?" I added, wondering why they didn't get it yet.

"Yeah, what about it?" Fred pressed.

"Voldemort was under that turban!" They stared at me for a moment before busting into laughter themselves. Ron poked his head in a moment later, only to find all of us laughing, which only escalated when I fell out of my chair.

"Er…hello?" Ron asked uncertainly. I waved at him, a little spastically, from my place on the floor as I paused, trying to catch my breath, but only succeeded in bursting into another round of laughing. "What's going on?" Ron asked as he stepped inside.

"We—" Fred gasped, "we hit You-Know-Who—" he was interrupted by more laughing though.

"In the face with—with snowballs," George finished and our laughing only increased in volume. Ron looked confused.

"Are you being metaphorical?" he asked.

"No!" I gasped. "That's the best part!" I laid there with my eyes still closed, gasping and trying to breathe normally. I felt something small press my shoulder and something wet and scratchy touch the skin by my ear. I opened my eyes to see Gus's face next to mine. He was watching me warily. He probably thought I was dying of a spastic attack…which only made me laugh again. I noticed Ginny standing behind Ron, leaning around him to peek in.

"What's the meaning of all this noise?" Percy demanded. He had marched up behind his youngest brother and sister and looked in on all of us critically. Our laughing had finally died down the intermittent giggles and George grinned up at his older brother.

"Don't look at me," Ron said. "I just got here."

"Hey, Perce."

"Please try to be quiet this summer, for _once_ ," Percy scowled. "I have a lot of…work to do." I looked at Percy with curiosity for perhaps the first time ever, wondering what was so special about this 'work' that he stumbled over the word and his face flushed. I looked at the twins who looked curious too.

"But of course, brother dear," Fred said in the most innocent voice I had ever heard from him; it worried me greatly. Apparently, Percy didn't trust Fred either because he turned to me.

"Skylar, I expect you to be a good influence on them," Percy said to me before turning on his heel and slamming his door behind him.

"Does he realize that we get our best ideas from you?" George asked.

"Good influence, my a—"

"Are you all unpacked yet?" Molly cam in next Ron ran upstairs, apparently _not_ all unpacked and Ginny came and sat on the floor next to me, picking up a bit of string to tease Gus with.

"All done, mum," George said, sitting up. She looked around the room seeing that their things were indeed out of sight, but eyed their dressers warily.

"Have you folded it properly, or just stuffed everything in you dressers?" she asked. Smart mum.

"Why, mum," Fred proclaimed, "you wound us!" Molly rolled her eyes, but chose not to investigate.

"Skylar, dear," she turned to me, "are you unpacked too?" I nodded and she seemed satisfied with that. "Alright then, all of you come down and get some biscuits." Fred and George were up as fast as I had ever seen them. I popped after them and Ginny moved slowly, picking up Gus and bringing him down and all of us. Molly sent us down, saying that she would be down after she checked on Ron's and Percy's unpacking. George got cups out of one cupboard while Fred pulled out the milk and they poured four glasses for us. I grabbed a cookie and dipped it in my cup, but was surprised when Ginny didn't go for the treat immediately. Instead, she went to another cupboard, having to pull herself onto the counter to reach her goal. She pulled out a bowl and pored milk in it, setting it beside Gus who was too busy sniffing curiously at the cookies to notice. To get his attention, she dipped a finger in the milk and tapped his nose, leaving a white drop there. He looked up, confused about had just happened. He stuck out his long tongue and licked his nose, apparently likeing the taste of that one drop, turned to the bowl and began lapping at the milk. Pleased with her success, Ginny took a cookie, munching on it happily. As she ate, she asked the twins all about Hogwarts, something she must have done dozens of times before because they rolled their eyes at one another before animatedly answering every single one of her questions.

"Not on the table, Ginny," Molly said when she came down the stairs with Ron following behind her. Ron took three cookies, not bothering with milk while he munched on them.

"But, mum!" Ginny complained.

"No 'buts'," Molly said firmly and the boys all snickered. "We eat on the table, cats eat on the floor." Ginny harrumphed, but did as she was told. Gus didn't seem to mind his change of altitude in the least and went straight back to his milk before licking his whiskers and darting up the stairs a moment later.

"Leave him," I told Ginny when she looked like she was going to follow. "He's a pretty well-mannered cat. Besides, if you go, Ron will eat all your cookies." Ron looked at me with an accusatory glare, unable to argue because of the whole cookie he had wedged in his mouth. "I'm not wrong," I told him and Ginny giggled next to me.

"Come on," Fred said after the last cookie had been devoured (Percy missed out, poor him). "We have to show you around." They dragged me up, and I followed them as we ran up the stairs.

"Girls' room," George gestured to Ginny's room with a grin. We ran up the next set of stairs. "And Percy's room. If you step in there, you will die of boredom," he warned solemnly.

"Understood," I nodded, just as gravely. They grinned appreciatively.

"Our room, of course," Fred motioned to the other door. "Don't worry about whatever sounds you may hear coming from there. Explosions, cries of pain, don't worry about us, we'll be fine." He smiled at me pleasantly and I squinted at him, unsure of how much he was teasing me.

"Moving on," George said, guiding us up the stairs. "That's Bill and Charlie's room. Mostly empty now that they're both moved out, but they'll be here for the next couple weeks. After that, we occasionally use their room to hide things, but mum likes to randomly clean in there so it's a bit dangerous." A quick peek in the room and we continued up the stairs. "Mum and dad's room," he pointed and passed, apparently considering the room too boring to explain further.

"And here is dear Ronniekin's room," Fred said merrily. "It's brilliantly messy which means he almost never notices when we booby trap it." I poked my head inside to find an uncommonly tidy room. In fact, the only things that things that looked even the tiniest bit out of place were the dresser drawers that were slightly open and the trunk which was only half shoved under the bed.

"A bloody disaster area," a said dryly. "Really, this place should be quarantined." The twins stuck their heads in over mine and sighed with disappointment.

"Looks like mum cleaned up a bit. Well, just give it a day or two—"

"—And it'll be as bad as old!" I closed the door quietly so Ron wouldn't come up to find us sneaking around, though I was sure he was still preoccupied with cookies. "Lastly, Cousin Barny's room." Fred reached up towards a hatch in the ceiling which I assumed led to the attic.

"Barny?" They had never mentioned a cousin living with them and of course the name put the image of a green and purple dinosaur with an unusual mop of red hair in my head. I shook my head trying to clear the image as George pulled a ladder down from the hatch and motioned me to go up first. I shrugged, assuming that this 'Barny' wasn't home if they were sending me up without an introduction. I climbed the rickety ladder and looked into the dark room, waiting just a moment for my eyes to adjust. When they did, I screamed. The face of a slimy, bumpy, hideous _thing_ was less than half a foot from my face. I flinched backward, lost my footing on the ladder and fell hard. "Ow," I groaned from the floor, my breath knocked out of me.

They just laughed at me and the only way I restrained myself from yelling at them was to remind myself that I loved these two very, very much and that I couldn't always be on the giving side of a prank. I was slightly mollified when Fred gave me a hand up while George put the ladder back and closed the hatch. "What is that thing?" I asked when I was once again vertical.

"The attic ghoul," George answered. "Nice guy, but no sense of hygiene." I gave him a skeptical look. "He's harmless. Bangs the pipes occasionally, but that's about it."

"Have you ever tried to get rid of it?"

"Mum and dad tried once years ago, but he came back. He's family now." Fred gave me a toothy smile. My mouth half lifted in response. Before I could voice the opinion that the slimy humanoid better stay far, far away from my room, Ginny's cry from several levels down went up.

"Charlie's here!" Fred and George charged into Ron's room to borrow his window. I followed after them, my stomach once again beginning to churn. A distant figure was slowly coming closer and the only thing I could tell about him was that he had red hair.

"C'mon," Fred and George yelled in unison, charging out of the room and down the stairs as abruptly as they had charged in. I looked out the window again. My stomach felt like acid and my knees felt like baby rattles. Again. Gingerly, I made my way after the twins. Exiting the kitchen, I watched Fred and George overtake both Ron and Ginny, all of them running to their brother. Molly followed the group more sedately. Fred and George both collided with Charlie, tackling him to the ground. They wrestled together until Ginny jumped onto the pile. Charlie jumped up and swung the girl around. He pulled Ron in for a hug next before sweeping his mother in for a big hug and kissing her on the cheek. I kept walking towards them. Charlie said something and Ginny pointed toward the house, a few floors up. He asked something else and Molly responded. One more question and this time both Fred and George were pointing at _me_. My steps faltered as Charlie turned at looked at me with a smile.

The whole group started my way and I tried to keep walking straight and tall. It wasn't working. I could feel my shoulders hunching and my toes stumbling and I half expected to fall on my face. "So," Charlie said as he approached, an arm around Ginny and Molly each. "You're the little Slytherin these two kept writing me about back in September?" Something about his tone was very familiar, though I couldn't put my figure on how, and I slid my gaze to the twins on his right.

"You were writing him about me?" I asked slyly. They both turned pink.

"Well, yeah," Fred stuttered, something I had never heard him do before. "We were worried about you, you know, all those Slytherins?"

"You were practically in the middle of a nest of snakes," George added sounding just as tongue-tied as his brother. I smirked at them, but broke off when Charlie chuckled. I had almost forgotten his presence. I looked at him and squared my shoulders.

"I guess that is me," I said. "I'm Skylar." I stuck out my hand like an American. He chuckled and reciprocated, shaking my hand.

"Charlie."

"Nice to meet you, Charlie."

"Nice to meet you, Skylar." And that was that. We went back into the house, discussion turned. "You said Percy's upstairs still? What's so important that he can't come welcome his favorite brother home?" _Favorite brother?_ I thought skeptically. But then again, he was so bright and good with his other siblings that I suppose he could relate to the Prickly Percy too. Maybe. If anyone could at least.

"He says he's doing something 'important'," Ginny explained with a roll of her eyes. Molly set a plate of cookies in front of Charlie and I wondered how these ones had escaped Ron. Molly must have hid them from him, I decided idly.

"Be nice about you brother," Molly chided them all. "He works very hard to reach his goals. He's going to do something very good someday." She sounded proud of her boy.

"Won't we, mum?" Fred asked with false offence.

"Of course, dear," Molly said, but there wasn't the same pride in her voice. Obviously, she already knew that the twins weren't off to do something…prestigious. I knew they would be great though, whatever they did.

"What about me, mum?" Charlie asked around a cookie.

"You already are," she said patting his shoulder. Before Ron or Ginny could ask though, Percy came down the stairs.

"Speak of the devil," Charlie murmured before standing to clap his brother into a hug. "Hey there, Perce. How's changing the world going?"

"Excuse me?" Percy asked in confusion.

"Well, Ginny says you're working on something important up there," he gestured toward the ceiling. "I thought that you must be working on Ministry legislation to change the world!" Percy shook his exuberant brother off.

"Don't be ridiculous," he mumbled. "I'm just… working on my…Ministry applications." Everyone's eyebrows shot up. Charlie had obviously been kidding about the legislation thing, but Percy had two whole more years of schooling. It wasn't completely unbelievable coming from Percy, but his face ruined the lie. He turned pink as if he had said something he hadn't thought through. Charlie's face broke into a victorious grin that said he knew _exactly_ what his brother was hiding from everyone. I wondered how to convince him to tell me.

"Well," Molly said, "this way, you will be more ready than any of the other graduates in your year, won't you?" She sounded very proud again and I wondered how she hadn't seen the lie. _It was right there!_

Conversation turned from Percy, a fact that he looked incredibly relieved for. Charlie ran upstairs to drop his things in his room and by the time he was back, Molly was calling for all of us to help set the table because Arthur was on his way home and supper would be ready as soon as he got there. I wondered how she knew he was on his way—wizards didn't have phones and I hadn't seen her get a message—but before I could ask, Fred nodded me to a clock on the wall. For a moment, I thought he was just pointing out the décor because how could a clock solve my confusion? But then, I looked at the clock. It didn't have numbers or roman numerals around the face and there were way more than two hands. There were nine hands, each engraved with the first name of a Weasley. The border of the clock's face had words instead of numbers; late, home, school, work, traveling, tea (how _British_ ), even 'mortal peril' stood exactly opposite 'home'. The hand that read 'Arthur' was pointed to where a regular clock would have had a three; this clock said 'traveling'. As I watched, the clock hand flicked up to the twelve o' clock position (home). "We'll have to have your hand made when I go into Diagon Alley next week, Skylar," Molly said. I blushed at being caught staring.

"Oh, you don't have to do that," I stammered. "I was just looking."

"Nonsense, of course we do," she said, looking up from her cutting board to smile at me. A man that I assumed was Arthur Weasley walked in at that moment, effectively distracting Molly for me.

The man's identity was confirmed a second later when Charlie pulled the man into a hug. "Dad!"

"Charlie!" The man warmly hugged his son back before stepping back and holding him at arm's length. "Great Merlin," he exclaimed. "Even more muscle than you had at Christmas!" Charlie was incredibly well built; I expected that that was both a requirement and a consequence of working with dragons. Both Charlie and Molly looked very proud until Arthur spoke again. "And is that burn new? Who gave you that one?" Charlie was unfazed, but Molly looked like she wanted to go hex the dragon herself for daring to hurt her son.

"We call her Norberta," Charlie said, glancing at Ron who dropped the silverware he was holding and narrowly avoided a knife in the foot.

"Her?" Ron coughed as he hurried to collect the fallen silverware.

"Her," Charlie confirmed with a grin. "They're a bit more temperamental." He looked back to the rest of us before continuing. "She's a Norwegian Ridgeback we got a couple months ago." I watched Ron's ears turn a suspicious red as he carefully avoided eye contact with his dragon-wrangling brother.

"Is she the one mum said you were taking care of this morning?" Ginny asked. She sounded excited at the prospect of a dangerous dragon. Personally, I believed in the wisdom of Hogwarts's school motto: _Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus—Never tickle a sleeping dragon._ Really, any sort of dragon. In fact, just stay away from the whole species.

"Yup," Charlie ruffled her hair as he passed, filling the glasses on the table with water. "She was sent to us after a man up in Scotland hatched and tried to raise her on his own in his cottage." Ron genuinely appeared to be choking. I looked at him oddly from where I was setting out the plates Fred had handed me. Charlie watched his youngest brother with amusement.

"But dragons can't be domesticated," Fred said with confusion.

"Try to convince this man of that though," Charlie laughed. "He wrote me a letter about a week after we got Norberta asking if he, he thought the dragon was a bloke named Norbert, was alright, if he missed this man, if we were taking care of him, everything. Went on for three pages. Besides, he simply thinks that dragons are 'misunderstood creatures'."

"He sounds like Hagrid!" George laughed. Ron appeared to be in the middle of an apoplexy in the kitchen.

"Alright, everyone," Molly said. "Enough about dragons; it's time to eat." Everyone sat down at the table and I tried to steal the seat next to Fred, but George beat me to it, leaving me to sit next to him, on the end right next to Arthur.

"Ah, you must be Skylar," he said when we sat. He had an almost childlike excitement about him and I was wary. Was he pranking me or coddling me? I didn't want either.

"Yes, sir," I said carefully.

"Wonderful! Oh, I have many questions to ask you!" He started patting his robes as if looking for something. "Molly? Molly, were did I put the…?"

"It's on your nightstand dear," she said patiently. He ran out of the room and didn't hear her call to eat his supper first. I looked incredulously at the twins who were both trying, and failing miserably, to hide their laughter.

'What's going on?' I mouthed at them. They just shrugged and George passed me the mashed potatoes.

Charlie and Percy were in a serious discussion about regulation on dragon breeding. Charlie thought they were too strict while Percy thought they weren't strict enough. I was impressed with how well Charlie argued his case. Of course he knew his material well, but plenty of people, even a few teachers, quailed when Percy argued a point of opinion with his knowledge and confidence. Ginny was asking Ron if Harry would prefer mashed potatoes or roasted potatoes and Ron, rolling his eyes, said that Harry would probably take some of both. Arthur ran back in, slightly out of breath, waving a parchment around victoriously.

"Here we are," he said taking his seat. "Now," he said, suddenly sounding very serious as he looked at the top of his parchment. "How does a slinky work?" I stared at him confusion.

"Excuse me?" I must have misunderstood the question. Ginny giggled, the twins snickered and Charlie chuckled.

"A slinky!" Arthur pushed urgently. "The coil of wire that just keeps flipping; how does it work?"

"Oh," I hadn't misunderstood. "Well, I'm not completely sure," I said. "It's something to do with the exchange of energy—potential and kinetic and all." I vaguely remembered my teacher doing a practical demonstration on the subject in fifth grade.

"And what's the difference between these two energies?" he asked, his eyes glued to my face and completely ignoring the plate of food Molly had put together for him. "Are they like ekletricy?" he sounded excited and I was surprised to find everyone at the table listening intently.

"Not really," I tried to explain, scrambling for the details. I hadn't had a single science lesson in two years and I had to search the dusty, cobwebby corners of my mind to find the fading details. "Electricity," I enunciated the word carefully for him, "has something to do with charged particles. Potential energy is the energy stored in an object when it's not moving and kinetic is the energy an object has when it's moving." I furrowed my brows. "I think. I might have mixed those up." He didn't seem concerned about my possible error because he jumped into his next question.

"Why don't muggle picture move?" I snorted in a very unladylike way.

"Why don't wizard pictures stay still?"

"Why would they?"

"Why _wouldn't_ they?" He was opening his mouth to respond, but Molly cut him off.

"Arthur, not at the dinner table," she commanded. "Eat your dinner and let Skylar eat hers." Arthur turned slightly pink as he turned from me to his wife.

"But Molly," he groaned and I dug into my food, content to stay out of the spousal spat.

"Later, Arthur," she said, a steel glint to her voice. He ducked his head and obeyed, apologizing to his wife. Conversation instantly picked back up around the table as Ginny asked Ron what Harry Potter's favorite activity was.

"Er, dunno," he said around a mouthful of biscuit (the dinner kind, not the cookie kind—barmy Brits). "I guess Quidditch. He's a good flyer and McGonagall got him a Nimbus Two Thousand."

"What position does he play?" she asked eagerly.

"Seeker.  
"Oh, that's the most _important_ position," she sighed dreamily.

"Oi, what about the beaters?" Fred cried.

"Yeah, we're important too," George added to his twin's complaint. I snickered at their falsely wounded tones.

"Sure, you're important," Ginny said, "but not _as_ important." She said the words as if they were inarguable fact. _If she's trying to hide this crush,_ I thought _, she needs some lessons on subtlety._ Charlie was hiding a smile too. Ron looked like he was going to be sick. Fred suddenly caught my attention as he nudged George and pointed from me to Charlie. George grinned and turned to Charlie.

"So, Charlie, are you going to help us?" Charlie looked up, one eyebrow raised.

"With what?" he looked like he was expecting the set up for a prank.

"Teaching Skylar to fly, of course." Charlie looked at me, eyebrows still raised like he knew what he was hearing was a prank.

"You still don't know how to fly?" he asked skeptically. "Everyone knows how to fly. They even have broomsticks for toddlers." Did he have to act like not knowing how to ride a broomstick made me an idiot? Automatically, my eyes narrowed and I turned defensive.

"My parents are muggles," I reminded him. "Muggles teach their kids to ride a bicycle, not a broom. Brooms are used for sweeping." He held up his hands like a surrender.

"Alright, alright, calm down." I tried to tell my shoulders to relax, but they wouldn't obey me. "What about school? They should have taught you there."

"Salem doesn't teach flying until third year," I informed him. "And Hogwarts only teaches first year so I got missed."

"Well, that's dragon dung! Flying is the best feeling in the world! You'll see."

"So you help then?" Fred asked.

"Of course. As long as Skylar wants to learn, I mean. After all, a broom is no bicycle." He was looking at me with his perpetually amused smile and I blushed.

"Sorry," I said. "Of course I want to learn." He clapped his hands together.

"It's settled then! We'll start first thing in the morning!" I nodded my agreement and we both went back to our cooling meals.

"About bicycles," Arthur said in a low voice as he leaned my way. "How are they propel—"

"Arthur," Molly said sharply and he sat back quickly, obediently going back k to his dinner.

"Gears," I whispered and he grinned. Molly sighed in exasperation and Ginny giggled at my smirk.

A week later, I was able to stay on my broom while it was in motion. And that was the extent of my ability. We worked every day for hours, but I was far from the prodigy I had hoped to be. Instead, I spent the first five days falling off my broom. I was covered head to toe in bruises, scrapes and scabs and had even broken my ankle once. Molly fixed me up quick saying that she had plenty of practice with the twins. Ron had said that watching me learn to fly to worse than watching Neville Longbottom when he was learning. That hurt.

On the sixth day, we were celebrating one full lesson with no new bruises earned when Molly bustled into the kitchen where we were pilfering the leftover pie from the previous evening.

"Charlie," she said urgently while the boy in question slid the plate of crumbs behind his back and out of her sight before she noticed. "Is your room clean?"

"Er, a bit," he said hesitantly.

"Bill will be here in one hour! Has his bed been remade?"

"Well, no, but—" Molly looked ready to burst.

"Mum, it's just Bill," Fred reminded her; his plan backfired as she turned to him. I tried not to laugh when he gulped.

"And is _your_ room clean young man?" she demanded. I snorted. Their room was such a spectacular mess that I doubted even their dictionary on the shelf knew what 'clean' meant anymore. My snort and their guilty expressions were all the confirmation she needed. "All of you go clean your rooms." The expression on her face convinced them not to argue and they all scurried off. "Is your room clean, Skylar?" she asked me, the two of us the only ones left in the kitchen. She sounded completely frazzled.

"Yes, ma'am," I smiled brightly at her, hoping it would sooth her nerves. My room really was clean though; naturally, I was rather messy, but I didn't currently have much to strew across the room. Most of what I owned were school supplies; books, clothes, parchment, et cetera. I hadn't gotten any of my school things out of my trunk. Besides, who, except for Ravenclaws and Hermione Granger, did their homework the first weeks of vacation?

"Good," she sighed sounding exceedingly relieved. "Would you go remake Bill's bed, then? The linens are in the scullery."

"Of course, Molly," I nodded and walked past her.

The little laundry room was just off the kitchen. I had just grabbed the sheets and walked back into the kitchen when Molly asked, "Skylar, what happened to the pie?" I froze.

"Not a clue," I said quickly before scurrying up the stairs. "Knock, knock," I said as I approached Charlie's room.

"Mum, I'm not—oh, it's just you, Skylar."

"Just me," I said lightly and tried the sooth the automatic bristling I felt at the qualifier. "I'm not nearly as cool as you mom," I added more sincerely. "She asked me to come change the sheets." He motioned to what I assumed had to be Bill's bed. It was covered in Charlie's things, but it was made as opposed to the other bed full of tangled sheets.

"Mum," he said distractedly as he went around the room, shoving all the stuff on the floor into a bag that should not have fit it all.

"Huh?" I asked as I pushed stuff off the cluttered bed and onto the cluttered floor. I raised my eyebrows at him and tried to hide my blush when I came across a magazine full of scantily clad witches. He chuckled, winked and took the magazine from me before explaining his original comment.

"You're in Britain now," he explained. "She's our _mum_."

"Mum, mom," I shrugged as I shook the pillow out of its case. "They mean the same thing. Besides," I added flippantly, "I'm American. I do what I want."

"How Slytherin of you." His back was to me, but it sounded like he was rolling his eyes.

"I don't get why everyone says 'Slytherin' like it's a bad word," I growled. "It's a perfectly good house!"

"It's full of assholes."

"Excuse me?" I ignored the bed and put my hands on my hips.

"Of course, there are exceptions," he said as he nodded to me diplomatically, "but the vast majority…."

"Every house has its assholes," I glared at him. "But everyone always turns against Slytherin."

"All the evil wizards came from Slytherin.

"Not true!" I argued. We had at that point both forgotten our tasks. "Morgan le Fey was Ravenclaw. Ethlered the Ever-Ready was Gryffindor. Garth Ranswick was Hufflepuff." I had learned the names and their house a few months back, trying to win a bet against the twins (I won.) Since then, I had used the argument three times against other classmates, two of them Gryffindor.

"Fine, fine," he said waving his hands to stop me; I had enough names to keep going for several minutes. "But you can't deny that more dark wizards came from Slytherin house than from all the other houses combined. All the Death Eaters were Slytherin and so was You-Know-Who."

"Unless you know about every single Death Eater that ever existed, you can't prove that. Besides, Slytherins also _far_ outpace every other house in producing CEOs, investors, and Ministers of Magic. Even Merlin was a Slytherin. Slytherins get what we want. No, we don't always go after the best of things, but we always succeed."

"Oh yeah?" he challenged. "And how's flying coming along for you?" I resisted the urge to stick my tongue at him.

"Being a professional Quidditch player isn't anywhere close to what I want," I scowled at him.

"Well, good. So, what is it that you do want, then? World domination?"

"Nunya!" I retorted.

"Nunya? What's that even mean?"

"None of your darn business, that's what?"

"Oh, ouch!" He was having fun getting me all worked up, which only annoyed me more.

"You know what? I bet you don't even know yet! I bet the only reason the Hat put you into Slytherin was because you're a sly little ball of sarcasm and _nothing else_."

"You're wrong! I'm going to do more than you ever will!"

"Oh, yeah, Yankee?" I bet—"

"Well, this isn't exactly the welcome I had in mind." The calm, amused voice from the doorway cut us off. We had forgotten everything we had been doing. I was surrounded by sheets and Charlie was still in the midst of his mess.

"Bill!" he exclaimed, running through his self-made obstacle course to give his brother a hug. "You're early!"

"Hey there, Charlie," he returned the hug. "And I'll bet you're Skylar," he added to me. I nodded as I went back to tugging sheets onto the bed. How embarrassing. I was bright red and my throat closed up abruptly. The same stomach-quiver that had accompanied every other introduction was back and it annoyed me. "Don't worry about those," he nodded to the sheets. "We'll blame Charlie—"

"Oi!"

"—And I'll take care of them later."

"Alright," I said, smiling reflexively at this new Weasley. My heart was still running the mile, but Bill sounded like he was very, very used to taking care of younger siblings. The twins slipped up a moment later and I gratefully took refuge next to them.

"So, what were you two fighting about," George nudged me and glared at Charlie.

"Slytherins." Bill laughed and dropped his things on the half-made bed.

"Don't bother about him," he told be.

"I'm right here!" Charlie scowled playfully from his bed. Bill ignored him and continued talking to me.

"He never could resist a fight—he likes the adrenaline—hence his career decision." Charlie grumbled good-naturedly that the decision might've had something to do with the fact that he like the animals.

"And you just happened to choose the biggest, baddest creatures in existence?" Bill laughed.

"Maybe." I was smiling again as I watched the brotherly banter. Yes, Charlie had hit some sore points; I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life and I was terrified that it would all come to nothing. However, he hadn't really meant anything by it, so I buried the feeling of resentment down in the back of my mind.

"Come on, you lot," Bill said, leading all four of us down the stairs. "Mum said to come get ready for supper."

" _Mum_ ," Charlie whispered as he passed me and tugged gently at my blond curls. I reached forward to pinch him.

"Whatever," I whispered back. Fred and George looked at us in confusion before shrugging and following us down the stairs where, for the first time, I had dinner with my whole family of ten.

 **A/N: This is the last chapter of The Muggleborn Slytherin. Thank you, thank you for sticking with me! I'll be picking up Skylar's story in the next installment with in the next few days so keep an eye out for it. It is titled "Hide and Seek with the Heir of Slytherin". Obviously, it follows Skylar, a resident of the Slytherin dungeons, through "Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets". Seriously, she's got to be in the scariest place in the entire castle for a muggleborn. Hope to see you there!**

 **Thank you again, for all your support! It's been great!**


	21. Author's Note-Transfering

Hey, y'all.

I have massively enjoyed writing _The Muggleborn Slytherin_ and its sequel _Hide and Seek with the Heir of Slytherin_ and seeing the feedback has been amazingly uplifting. However, I've been doing a rewrite, so far just of _The Muggleborn Slytherin_ and unfortunately, I won't be posting it here. Archive of Our Own has a format that I like better for long series which this will eventually be so I'm moving the updated draft there. I would love for you to read it, review, tell me how you like the changes, and of course follow the rest of the series as it comes if you can. _The Muggleborn Slytherin_ is listed under the same title, but my username on AO3 is ChipOfftheOldSoul if you try to look me up.

I'll still be on FFN, just not posting. Hope to hear from you,

-mystorytotell


	22. Note for It Has Begun

I began writing this character in her first year at Hogwarts in a fic titled _The Muggleborn Slytherin_ , but realized that all the bits I wanted to write took place during the war...so I skipped ahead a bit. I've left the first two stories, _The Muggleborn Slytherin_ and _Hide and Seek with the Heir of Slytherin_ as well as the collection of oneshots in "This Grimmauld Place" up for now, in case I have the urge to go back and keep writing or do character development or whatever, but I'll be focusing on my wartime fic, title _It Has Begun_.

Summary of _It Has Begun_ : The Dark Lord is gaining power, Albus Dumbledore is dead, the Order of the Phoenix is scrambling and the Boy Who Lived is nowhere to be found. But there is still a war to fight.

If you want to look for _It Has Begun_ on AO3, it is also posted there (I like AO3's format a bit better).


End file.
